


Unprofessional

by cristallodineve



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Blood and Torture, Heavy Angst, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Psychological Drama, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Schizophrenia, Sex, Sexual Abuse, Thriller, Violence, medical AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-10 06:33:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13496726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cristallodineve/pseuds/cristallodineve
Summary: Baekhyun, a psychiatrist, developed the weird capability of knowing about someone's past and most shameful hidden secrets just by a touch of his hands, all after a near-death traumatic experience. He believed he was the only one, until he met Park Chanyeol, who apparently shares this difficult gift.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I'm back with a new story! *insert round of applauses*  
> It's a weird concept, but I really like it. Just be patient if things seems slow in the beginning... it will need a good build-up.  
> Let me know what to think of it, and remember to be careful with the warnings!

Chapter one

Baekhyun was late. He grabbed his bag, glancing to the clock on the wall, and he was already turning the key in the lock when he realized that he forgot his scarf. “Fuck” he cursed, getting back inside to retrieve it from the hanger next to the door. After a little thinking, he rushed into the kitchen and shoved some bread into a lunchbox, alongside with a few slices of icy cold rotisserie chicken he bought for himself the night before, since he was dead tired after a terrible day at work and he didn’t feel like cooking. He tossed and turned in his bed for the whole night as a result, but at least he didn’t end up dozing like an idiot, drool falling on the table, while his boiled rice spilled on the stove making a mess everywhere.

He fastened his scarf around his neck and went out. He was running down the staircase when he remembered that he actually forgot the most important thing, the one he couldn’t leave behind no matter what.

“Fuck” he repeated, scoffing. He begrudgingly climbed up the stairs again, reaching his apartment’s door and fumbling with the keys until he managed to open again. Once inside, he took the plain black cotton gloves from the stool in the little hall, and then he wore them carefully.

He instantly started breathing with more ease after that. Those gloves were really important to him, for reasons that he preferred not to think over too much.

Afterwards, he started running.

As every single day, he rushed towards the bus stop, yelling to get the driver’s attention. The bus was about to leave when he finally crashed into an empty seat. He clutched his bag to his chest, breathing heavily, and while doing that, he suddenly remembered that he forgot his lunchbox somewhere back into his home.

“Fuck” he cursed for the third time, then he leaned his forehead against the window’s cool glass and closed his eyes for a moment.

He woke up several stops later, and he had to ring for the driver to let him down from the bus and walk towards his workplace. “Why am I such an idiot?” he asked to himself, burying his nose into the thick wool scarf and shoving his gloveted hands into his pockets, since it was still early and terribly cold. He had a meeting that morning, and of course he managed to miss it.

The clinic was a big, ugly building towering over a desolated parking lot, half-deserted in that early morning. Baekhyun sighed while noticing the lit windows towards the roof. Of course, Joonmyeon held the meeting at the last floor... so much for his luck.

When he entered and waved at the girls at the acceptance desk, he noticed that someone was already there, and he wasn’t anyone he already knew. He glanced towards him curiously. The guy looked young, at least from behind, and he was really tall. He was busy filling up some forms, and Baekhyun was going to walk away, thinking that a voluntary request of acceptance was always a pretty uncommon thing to witness, when he suddenly noticed something.

The guy was still writing, and he was doing it while wearing gloves.

He instinctively stopped, trying to get closer, forgetting that it was mid-January and that it was perfectly normal, for normal people, to wear something that could keep their hands warm. But writing with gloves on was pretty difficult, wasn’t it? Or maybe he was just indulging in his old habit, overanalizing and overthinking everything, ending up to make up every kind of weird scenarios in his head without actually knowing anything. After all, his paranoid personality disorder was always there, always kicking him in the ribs when he wasn’t prepared, always making him suspect and mistrust and gloom about everyone. Baekhyun came to terms with his mindset after realizing that being a psychiatrist and having medical knowledge about mental health actually doesn’t immunize you from having some trouble as well. That was unexpectedly hard to acknowledge, somehow, but it made him feel better in the end. Now he actually barely paid any attention to it.

He managed to steal a glimpse of some ruffled hair and pointed ears peeking from under a wool beanie, that he bumped into two men clad in a white coat.

“Uh” he stuttered, “hello. Is the meeting already over? I was supposed to...”

One of the two rolled his eyes. “Last floor, conference room.”

“Thanks. Err, the bus was late, so...”

“Sure. Professor Kim is furious, you know? You’d better go and apologize quickly.”

“Oh... sure” Baekhyun murmured, blushing furiously. He rushed towards the elevator, frantically pushing the button, but when he saw that it was already busy, he just took the stairs and started running.

“What a weirdo” one of the two doctors said, sipping on his coffee.

“Yeah, he’s an offense to this place and to Kim himself” the other agreed. “All that fuss on the internet... and acting like a miracle-maker and so on... I wonder why he didn’t get fired already.”

“Yes, especially after all that happened.”

“You know what? It’s not our business. Shall we get back to work?”

The two left towards the aisle, still chatting together. The man at the acceptance desk glanced towards them, uninterested, then resumed filling up his form.

He didn’t care. He took the bother to come all the way to that place for a reason, and useless rumours and chatters weren’t going to make him change his mind.

He looked at the papers he was signing, checking his handwriting which sometimes was a little shaky, but soon he finished and handed everything back to the receptionist.

“Room 201, sir” the woman chirped, “soon someone will be here to escort you. You need to give me your bag, now.”

“Why?” he blandly asked.

“Because some objects aren’t allowed inside of the clinic.”

The man looked at her sharply, showing some emotion for the first time. “I’m not planning to do anything...”

“I’m sorry, sir” the woman kept smiling, implacable, “but it’s the clinic’s policy.” She actually took the old and worn-out bag from his hesitant grasp and started rummaging through its contents, throwing random stuff into a huge bin behind her desk. The man watched quietly while a good half of his belongings disappeared. He didn’t say a word when his shaving cream, comb and razor were thrown away, that was kind of understandable in a place for mentally unstable people, but he really got upset when, after a quick look, the woman unceremoniously threw away his books, cigarettes and mints, and then asked for his phone.

“Well...” he started, but the receptionist’s fake smile made his strength dry out.

“Yes?”

“Nothing” he murmured, finally giving her everything she asked for. “Sorry.”

To be honest, he was too tired to argue, and he didn’t care.

He just... didn’t care anymore.

He just wanted to see him, now.

\---oOo---

“I’m sorry” Baekhyun started rambling, as soon as he stepped inside of the already empty meeting room, “I’m so sorry, really. The bus was late, and...”

Kim Joonmyeon turned to face him. He became a professor very early, gaining promotions over promotions after an exhausting year of constant research that made him discover an alternative and less invasive way to treat schizophrenia. He was just a couple years older than Baekhyun, to be honest, a senior at his same college, but nobody would have ever guessed just by looking. He _looked_ older, not just because of the thin expression lines already crossing his face, but especially because of his attitude.

Kim Joonmyeon was born to run a clinic, and Baekhyun was his worst employee.

“I’m so sorry” he said, bowing his head. “Really. Forget about what I’ve said. I’m unforgivable, but lately I haven’t been sleeping well, and...”

“Silence” Kim coldly interrupted him. “Shut your mouth.”

Baekhyun was left there, tormenting his gloveted hands in frustration, while the professor, who was still sitting at the meeting table, rubbed his temples. “I... Joonmyeon, I am really...”

“I. Said. _Silence_.”

This time, Baekhyun shut up for real, waiting for what would come next, which usually was a reproach. Instead, this time Kim had an update for him.

“I’ve received another letter of complaint from the Ohs, yesterday.”

Baekhyun shuddered. He hadn’t been expecting that revelation. “Another?” he gasped. “But that would make...” He frantically started counting.

“Yes” Kim confirmed, “it’s the eleventh one. They are starting to pile up on my desk, you know, and to give me headaches.”

Baekhyun didn’t dare raising his eyes to meet the professor’s. Oh Sehun’s treatment had been the worst failure in his short career. He had tried and tried with that patient, but he made a terrible mistake, crossing boundaries that he shouldn’t have, and now his family sued the clinic for improper behaviour and treatment’s schedules.

“Where is he now?” Baekhyun asked, in a small voice. Every time Oh Sehun was mentioned, his throat got narrow. He was a young man with a teen’s face, thin like a sprout and naive like a child, with a sensitive heart and a fascinating but terribly unstable mind. In spite of everything that happened, Baekhyun still felt the strong bond between them, just like when he still was his patient. “Is he better?” he dared to ask, since Joonmyeon kept mum.

The professor rubbed his temple again. “His family took him somewhere else to be treated with canon methods.”

Baekhyun clenched his teeth. Sehun hated his family. “Canon methods as in electroshocks and medicines?”

Kim shot him an icy cold glance. “It’s their right to choose, Baekhyun, and since their son can’t choose on his own, they had to take this decision for him.”

“I was about to make it” Baekhyun protested. “I could have helped him face his trauma without the need of shocking him with a high-voltage load twice a day...” A disturbing, terrible image of his patient shaking under that kind of treatment made him cringe and lose his voice for a moment. “Electric therapy isn’t the proper way to help him. He won’t get better, that way. You need to tell that people...”

“That people” Kim specified, “is accusing _you_ of everything, Baekhyun, don’t ever forget it. The clinic took the blame to protect you, even if none of your colleagues, me or anyone else did anything wrong.”

A gelid vise squeezed Baekhyun’s stomach. “I know, and I’m grateful for that, but...”

“In these cases, a written apology could at least be of some help. I think I asked you to write one a couple months ago, but I still need to see it.” Kim looked at him sharply. “Where is it?”

“I didn’t write it.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m still positive that I didn’t do anything wrong. The boy’s reaction might have been strong, but if you’ll let me go on with the treatment, I...”

That was the moment when Kim snapped for real. “But, but, BUT!” he bellowed, startling Baekhyun. “You might fucking _ruin_ me and you don’t have anything else to say?!”

Baekhyun shook his head. “I’m sorry” he whispered.

“Go away. I don’t want to see you.”

“Shall I... uhm... go to see some patients? Or do you want me to do something else...” Baekhyun didn’t manage to say it aloud. Something else, actually, was an euphemism for resignation.

Kim gritted his teeth. “Believe me. If I were in need of a cleaning person, or an office worker, or anything else, you’d be already doing that.”

Baekhyun cringed. “Then, what am I supposed to do? After what happened with Sehun, I didn’t get any work. I don’t have any patients to treat right now...”

“You must have some saints in Paradise, though, because just a half an hour ago a person came in asking specifically of you. Congrats, you now have patients to treat. At least one, I guess.”

“Really?”

“Mental ward, room 201. He’s waiting for you, so you better drag your sorry ass over there and start doing something good.”

Joonmyeon pushed some documents towards him, and Baekhyun took them with trembling hands. Finally, he thought, finally people was starting to forget about the whole incident involving Sehun. Soon, everything would be over, and he would be a good psychiatrist again, with a spotless and polished career.

“Park Chanyeol” he read aloud, flipping through the pages of the folder. “29 years old. Previously diagnosed with...” he gulped, “schizophrenia.”

Joonmyeon smirked mirthlessly. “Funny, isn’t it? You got into a mess because of a poor boy suffering of this same illness, and the first case that might save your ass is actually similar. Destiny is such a funny thing.”

“Joonmyeon, I don’t think I...”

“Listen, Baekhyun. _No_ isn’t an allowed answer to this request. You will treat this patient, and you better do a fucking miracle, or I swear, I’ll make your regret it.”

A few minutes later, after rinsing his face in the gentlemen’s restroom, Baekhyun was walking down the corridor, the slowest he was able to. He knew that Joonmyeon was right, of course... until he wouldn’t start doing his job properly again, nobody would ever forget about the incident and start trusting him anew as a professional. Still, he couldn’t help wondering if he was really ready to do it.

He was afraid he was not.

When he went to bed, at night, he could still see Sehun’s terrified and slightly unfocused eyes on him, just before he lost consciousness and collapsed like a dead body on the floor. When he woke up, the same, as well in the most random moments during the day, especially when he would finally start thinking that he wasn’t actually feeling too bad.

That feeling was always there, gnawing at his core, tormenting him little by little.

He made sure to wear his best smile before opening the door of room 201. He wanted a fresh start with this Park person, and he didn’t want to make mistakes this time. He wanted to show an image of a trustful and professional doctor, of someone who was really able to make people heal.

 _Oh, fuck. I hope everything will be okay_.

After a deep breath, he turned the knob and got inside.

\---oOo---

Chanyeol was in a very foul mood. He had been sitting on that bed doing absolutely nothing for the last few minutes, and he already felt restless.

Was he doing the right thing? He had no fucking idea.

When he heard the door creaking, he turned with a jump, seeing a man wearing a white coat entering the room with a binder folder in his hands. His throat went dry, because it was _him_. He looked different than in the pictures on the internet, Chanyeol couldn’t even define why exactly, but he did. He looked younger, maybe, or thinner, somewhat... less polished, less shiny. As a still roughly shaped sculpture that needed the finishing touch of the artist. His eyes were tired, his cheeks lightly flushed, and his hair a little messy. But it was _him_... and just seeing _him_ in person made Chanyeol rise on his feet, stiff like a middle schooler.

Instinctively, he hid his gloveted hands behind his back.

“Hello” the man greeted him, “I am doctor Byun. And you are Park Chanyeol, right?”

“Yes” Chanyeol blurted out. Byun Baekhyun was wearing white cotton gloves, and he didn’t reach out to shake his hand, so Chanyeol kept his tightly clasped behind his back. He could already feel his palms begin to sweat, inside of the wool gloves, but he didn’t care. Those were the thinnest he could find at the mall, but they still felt too hot.

Going around without was out of question, as simple as that.

“How do you feel today, Mr Park?” Byun was asking, meanwhile. “If you are okay with that, I’ll ask you a few questions. Shall we take a seat?”

“Yes” Chanyeol repeated, hating himself because he was behaving stupidly, just like a startled teenager. The truth was, Byun Baekhyun was handsome. Very handsome. And he was wearing one of his oldest shirts, hair surely a mess because he didn’t bother combing it after taking off his beanie, and he was sure his skin was pale, sallow and his dark circles were showing.

Byun Baekhyun smirked lightly, then sat on a chair placed by the little desk near the window. Unsure of what to do, Chanyeol looked around for another chair, but then he had no other choice than sit on the bed. “Well...” he began, but Byun interrupted him.

“You have been diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia by a neuropsychiatrist in Gwangseo” he said, flipping through the folder’s pages. “Your symptoms include hallucinations, outbursts of self-destructive anger and trouble in controlling your physical strength, to the point that your doctor feared that you could hurt the people around you.”

“I...”

“You’ve been treated with pills so far, with no real visible results. Thus your doctor’s advice to come here...”

“That’s not true” Chanyeol finally managed to say, breaking into the constant flux of words of the specialist, “I wrote it like that into the acceptance’s form because I was afraid that I was unfit to stay. You can check, my old doctor never advised me to come to this clinic. Actually, I bet that old fart would have rather stuff me with pills until the day of my death.”

Byun Baekhyun was staring at him with wide eyes. “Uh” he murmured, “I see. So, can you explain me...”

Chanyeol breathed deeply. _I am going to say it now._

“To be honest, the reason I decided to come was to see you in person.”

Byun was surprised. “Me? Why...” His voice trailed off, and he suddenly paled. “You don’t mean...”

Quietly, Chanyeol took out a folded piece of paper from his jeans’ pocket. It was an old newspaper’s cut, and he handed it to the doctor, who took it with trembling fingers. Chanyeol’s hand brushed against the other man’s smaller one, fingers covered in thick wool touching briefly a slender thumb encased in pristine white cotton.

Chanyeol knew that article by heart, by that time, and he could recall every single word while Byun Baekhyun read it carefully.

_Miracle-maker psychiatrist and his omniscient touch: lie or truth?_

_Apparently, in Seoul there’s a clinic, run by a very respectable professor called Kim Joonmyeon, where a very peculiar person going by the name Byun Baekhyun works. You can often see this man walk along the clinic’s corridors wearing some white gloves while on duty, because apparently if he touches someone by accident he could end up seeing the most shameful, hidden parts of his naked soul. Even more incredibly, this unusual (and very non-scientific) talent actually made him earn a lot of fame, since he managed to heal many mentally ill people thanks to his touch, actually forcing them to face the worst moments of their lives and their still unsolved traumas. Nobody knows how he manages to, but he demonstrated many times to know details and episodes that nobody ever told him, or that he couldn’t ever know before. Recently, though, his miraculous touch got severely questioned because of his late patient’s tragic case. Student Oh, an eighteen years old boy from Gangnam, was previously diagnosed with a severe case of paranoid schizophrenia, which caused him terrible hallucinations and made him believe to be constantly stalked by a crazy man who wanted to harm him. Doctor Byun apparently refused to treat the patient with canon methods, claiming that he was perfectly fine and that his hallucinations weren’t just the result of his illness, but that the boy actually suffered from a real case of stalking and abuse, as he saw thanks to his “magic” touch. Regretfully student Oh, who had been unprepared to face the bare truth, attempted suicide and risked his life. Afterwards, Byun was temporally suspended from his job and endured a trial. He was declared innocent by the jury, but the student’s family sued him and is currently running a legal battle towards the Kim clinic and its policies. The mystery is still deep: is doctor Byun a miracle-maker or a liar? Only time will tell the truth._

“Where did you find this?” Byun asked, with a strained voice, when he was finished reading.

“In my hometown’s local newspaper” Chanyeol replied, trying to read the man’s expression. He could see shame, sadness, even a hint of rage on his pretty features. “Oh Sehun’s case really stirred up public opinion, even in the suburbs.”

“I...” Byun Baekhyun gulped. “This is... I don’t understand. Did you want to be treated by me because you think I am some kind of sorcerer or...?”

Quietly, Chanyeol stretched out his hands on his lap for the man to see. “There’s no need to get defensive, Mr Byun. Actually, I am just like you.”

“Like me what? I don’t understand. Are you a journalist?”

Chanyeol chose to ignore the question and to get straight to the point. “I wear gloves, just like you, because even a casual touch can cause me to see... unwanted things.”

He wriggled his thick fingers, waiting for Byun’s reaction. The man stared at him, frozen, without speaking, his eyes big and bulging.

To be honest, Chanyeol was disappointed. He hadn’t been expecting anything like that. “I’m not telling lies, I swear. I’m not even schizophrenic, I lied about that too. If you don’t believe me, you can check my medical records in my hometown, it can be retrieved easily. All I have is some mild PTSD, but nothing too terrible I guess. It’s just that after I returned from a war scene, I started seeing disturbing stuff about people that I randomly touched. There’s no medical explanation whatsoever for this, I got tested for schizophrenia and other mental illnesses, and I have none of those.”

He sighed, because Byun suddenly flinched and averted his gaze when he said that. He was still disappointed, but he didn’t either wanted to make him feel uncomfortable. “I’m sorry if this is making you upset” he went on, “but after I stumbled upon that article, I knew that I had to contact you somehow, and a phone call or a letter didn’t seem the right way. I guess I needed... to talk to you in person.” He looked at him in the eyes. “You have been cursed a lot, haven’t you? You’ve been called a fraud, a scammer, or simply a liar just like me. I’ve been questioned to be mentally ill, which was offensive and troubling to me, and I believe you’ve been too. Why are you looking at me like this?”

Byun Baekhyun suddenly raised his gaze, piercing him with a furious gaze. “Stop. Don’t talk any further.”

Chanyeol looked at him, surprised. Byun looked mellow and calm to him, when he came, but now he was like a completely different person. He was literally boiling with hardly-suppressed rage, and Chanyeol found himself stepping back from him, to put some more distance between them.

For a long moment, Byun looked at him, his eyes narrow and cruel, while Chanyeol had no choice but to avert his gaze.

Nobody spoke, until the psychiatrist accidentally dropped his folder.

“You better get accustomed to the rules here. Breakfast is served at half past eight, lunch at twelve o’clock, dinner at half past seven. You better not skip meals, or your medications will affect you in the weirdest ways. I will come for therapy sessions daily, in the morning and in the afternoon. In your free time, you are not allowed to stroll around freely as long as the medical commission of the clinic won’t have judged you inoffensive for the clinic’s personnel and other guests’ wellbeing. Any questions?”

Chanyeol flinched, suddenly realizing that he didn’t listen to a single word of that robotic speech. “I...”

Byun was still staring at him in that cruel way.

“I am sorry. I shouldn’t have talked to you in that way.”

Finally, Byun sighed. “No, you shouldn’t have. I still need to understand if you are just a liar or a real patient who needs proper help, but if you don’t belong here, please just go away without causing any unnecessary trouble. I’ve had enough of that, and I’m struggling to get ”

Chanyeol lowered his head. He came there looking for an ally, and now he got himself an enemy. He felt miserable and stupid, and there was nobody besides him to blame for that. Byun was staring at his gloveted hands, and his gaze was just as sad as Chanyeol’s. “Don’t get involved with me, if you can” he whispered, before adding, with a slight but terribly sad smirk: “Apparently, I’m dangerous.”

Chanyeol couldn’t find anything good to reply, while the doctor went past the door and left. He remained alone, sitting on his bed, feeling drained and empty.

“Congrats, idiot” he complimented himself, “you fucked up very prettily, this time.”

He spent the rest of the morning looking out of the window, lost in thought. Nobody came to check if he ate his lunch, and he left it untouched until a woman came to withdraw the still full tray.

\---oOo---

Baekhyun returned home earlier than usual, but he was glad to find the usual mess and the welcoming silence of his apartment back. He needed some alone time.

He showered, then, clad in his favourite fluffy pyjamas, he munched onto some rotisserie chicken he bought along the way. It was horribly cold and tasted like ash, but his body needed fuel and his brains as well.

That Park dude... he had been thinking about him for the whole day. There was something, about that guy, that made his speech sound terribly sincere.

Baekhyun still had not found a good explanation for his _gift_. He kept referring to it like that, calling his ability to see people’s past and most carefully hidden secrets a gift, even if it quickly turned into a terribly heavy burden to bear. It began all of a sudden, out of nowhere, and he remembered perfectly the moment when, after unknowingly brushing the elbow of one of the cleaning ladies at the hospital when he was still an intern, he was instantly assaulted by a stream of visions about the woman’s life. She was divorced, depressed and on the verge of suicide, and Baekhyun found out that she actually took her life, hanging herself in one of the bathroom’s stalls, just a few days later. The thought that he could have done something to ease that woman’s pain, which was invisible to everyone’s eyes, was awful. Since then, he found out that everyone had secrets, shames or things that didn’t want to share, and that nobody was what it looked.

People were lying half of the time, and the other half, they were hiding the truth.

Baekhyun was no idiot. He knew that such a capability was uncommon, and he was a physician, so he tried searching for reasons. He spent half of his free time in the Seoul General’s library, looking for an explanation in the immense and dusty medical cases, but all he could find were records of mythomaniacs describing a similar ability, each of them very sick people trying to deny their impending schizophrenia, incurable brain tumour or serious mental illness.

One thing he knew for sure, he wasn’t sick, he just couldn’t. His mind functioned perfectly, and he was proficient in his studies and work. So, he kept searching, with no success. Sometimes, similar cases were triggered by a traumatic event which left a very strong trace in the patient’s mind, but that was the only common denominator.

Well, Baekhyun actually suffered of a traumatic event in the past, but that was it. He was over it, since it happened during his student’s days and now it was already long gone. That was just the past, and it never affected his professional success or career.

Until Sehun came into his life, of course, but that was another story.

He couldn’t understand, to be honest, why he couldn’t let the meeting with Park Chanyeol slide so easily. Usually Baekhyun wasn’t easy to impress, since he was used to see a fairly big variety of humanity at the clinic. He was the only one, while in medical school, who chose psychiatry as a major, and he wondered why that speciality was so unpopular back then, but now he understood perfectly. Being around mentally ill people was exhausting, and sometimes even scary. Once, a schizophrenic patient, who was convinced to be in the jungle and that a savage man was coming to slaughter him with a scythe tried jumping out of the window trying to save his life, and Baekhyun had tried with all his might to pin him down until security came to the rescue. And then there was Sehun... again.

Baekhyun took his head between his hands, shutting his eyes closed. Sehun, so young and so troubled, with his terrible burden of pain and loneliness, with a family that couldn’t understand him.

That Park dude didn’t look mentally ill. When coming home, Baekhyun checked the medical records, and it was true that he lied while filling in the acceptance form. What if Park was just another Sehun? Another unhappy person on the verge of doing something really, really stupid because nobody believed him? Baekhyun had no idea. Maybe he was just an attention seeker, or a very lonely person.

But he really couldn’t handle another tragedy happening because of him and because of his negligence.

He went to bed early, trying not to indulge too much in unpleasant thoughts. He slept soundly, like the dead, and when he woke up he ate a frugal breakfast, wore his gloves and scarf and went to the clinic.

To meet Park Chanyeol, again.

\---oOo---

Chanyeol was in his room, staring at the still full tray of his breakfast, when the doctor came in. He glanced at him, surprised because he didn’t expect anyone to come at that time of the day, and then he blushed madly. He was still wearing his pyjamas, and he felt ashamed of himself and his lanky body. He crossed his elbows on his chest, unsure of what to do. “Uh...”

Byun Baekhyun glanced at his old and worn-out bed attire just for a second, then averted his gaze. “Let’s forget what happened yesterday” he said, “and let’s just start all over, shall we?”

Chanyeol’s reaction wasn’t the quickest. “What?”

“First of all, though” Doctor Byun said, looking at him sharply, “I need to make sure of one thing. Did you lie to me, yesterday, when you told me that you can see people’s past just through a touch of your bare hands?”

“I wasn’t lying, I swear” Chanyeol replied.  His heart was beating fast, because he could see that something was different in Byun’s face, this time. Was that man really starting to believe him? “It’s all true.”

“Fine, then” the other murmured, reaching out for him with his little, gloveted hand. “Hello, Mr Park, I’m Doctor Byun. I’m happy to meet you, and I hope I’ll be able to help you.”

 _And that you will be able to help me, somehow,_ he mentally added.


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!  
> Please be aware of the warnings before dwelving into this chapter. ;)

 

First of all, he went to the vending machine in the hall to get two cups of coffee. If Mr Park – Chanyeol – technically wasn’t his patient, then he should at least make an effort to put him at ease, to make everything feel a little more normal. He couldn’t invite him to a cafe outside of the clinic, of course, he would be yelled at, but at least he could offer him something warm to drink like decent human beings do when they needed to have a serious talk.

“Here” he said, clumsily pushing the man’s door open with a shoulder while balancing the two cups, his folder awkwardly trapped between his elbow and waist. Chanyeol rushed to help him, and Baekhyun absently noticed that he was tall but also a little lanky, all long arms and legs, and that he was too slender, even a little bit underweight. Didn’t he mention having a mild PTSD after attending a war scene? And when? Which one? He looked too young for having already completed his military service, also his hair were too long. How old was he exactly? And, more importantly, _what if he had been doing nothing but lie to him for all the time?_

Again, he was being paranoid again. He had to stop it. It was such a bad habit, and it made his thoughts spin in crazy little circles.

Chanyeol thanked him, holding his cup with both hands with care, as if he was afraid to spill everything on the floor. “Let’s sit” Baekhyun said, since he looked embarrassed and unsure of what to do. He occupied the chair, letting the other sit on the bed.

“Well” he began, since Chanyeol still didn’t say a word, “so here we are. You said you started seeing people’s past after returning from a war scene? This is pretty interesting, actually. Did you endure some sort of trauma? Because you know, I thought the whole thing over and over, and I concluded that the only thing our experiences have in common is an upsetting event that somehow triggered this... capability. Is capability the right way to call it, though? Maybe it’s not. How to call it, otherwise? “Having visions” would make us like biblical characters or other weird people from the past, “seeing stuff” sounds inappropriate and “guessing” too. Weird, uh? There just isn’t a proper way to call it, no matter how much you think about it.”

He stopped, because Chanyeol was staring at him with bulging eyes. Baekhyun had been rambling for a full three minutes at crazy speed.

“I’m sorry” he apologized, his cheeks warming up. “I’m just really happy to have someone to share this burden, after all this time. I tend to get a little over-enthusiast, when I am excited.”

“It’s okay” Chanyeol croaked. “Really. I’m just a little perplexed. Traumatic event, you said... but if the origin of this... uh... thing is only that, then wouldn’t it be much more common?”

Baekhyun sighed. “Yeah. This is the weak spot in my little theory. Straight to the point.”

“I didn’t mean dissing you” the other whispered, embarrassed, “but just that maybe, if you are really right, then there must be more like us around. Just sayin’.” He had a tendency to slur his speech a little, and his deep voice had a peculiar accent that Baekhyun couldn’t recognize. Some inflexion from the North, maybe? It sounded so uncommon.

“Which isn’t the case, surely” Baekhyun gloomily replied, sipping on his coffee, trying to clear his mind. “Sorry, I’ve been too eager. Let’s analyze things from the very beginning, shall we? Let’s try being rational.”

 _Or better, YOU try_.

An awkward silence fell between the two of them, while Baekhyun desperately thought of something worth being said and Chanyeol looked elsewhere.

There was a clock on the wall, softly ticking in the background. Baekhyun tried to focus on that sound to calm down, but he found out that he couldn’t. His palms were sweating inside of his cotton gloves, and he felt restless. It felt so good, finally knowing that someone shared his gift, and that it wasn’t just a weird product of his mind. He questioned his mental sanity a lot, before, but finally he got a confirmation that everything was real.

He was euphoric. Maybe even more than he should.

“Do you think that it will snow?”

Baekhyun suddenly blinked, losing track of his thoughts. Chanyeol’s voice caught him by surprise. “What?”

“The sky is white and it’s freezing cold” the other calmly explained. “Do you think it will snow?”

“Uh... maybe.”

Chanyeol shot him a little smile. “I like snow. Makes everything look nicer.”

To be completely frank, Baekhyun hated when it snowed, the traffic going crazy, the cold, walking around with his feet all wet – he really hated it. But for the tiniest fraction of second, something in Chanyeol’s eyes made him feel like seeing some snow. “Well, I don’t know.”

Chanyeol’s smile faded a little. “It always snowed a lot, while I was in the North.”

“Oh, you went to North Korea?”

An alarm rang somewhere in Baekhyun’s mind. _Focus, Baek, don’t lose yourself in his pretty eyes. He’s lying. He’s too young to be a soldier, and too young for having already finished his military service. Something’s fishy with this guy. Don’t let your guard down_.

Chanyeol stared at him. “Something’s wrong?”

“Uh... this coffee tastes really awful, doesn’t it?”

 _Don’t be a nervous wreck like always,_ he tried reminding himself, _he’s not here to harm you. He said it – he’s seeking for help. Shouldn’t you try being nice to him, instead of questioning everything he says like a maniac?_

“No, it’s fine” Chanyeol muttered, always looking a little alarmed. He was probably thinking that Baekhyun looked like a weirdo, and the psychiatrist felt ashamed of himself.

 _I am a doctor. I should know how to deal with people, but I can’t even get a hold of myself right now_.

“I think I know what you’re thinking” Chanyeol murmured.

“Ah” Baekhyun wheezed, “I was just...”

“You are thinking that I’m too young to having already cleared my military service, and that I don’t look like a soldier.”

Baekhyun averted his gaze, feeling his heart sink.

 _Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. You messed up everything AGAIN_...

“Yes” he apologized, “I’m sorry. Sounds a little hard to believe, to be honest.”

“I am aware of that” Chanyeol unexpectedly confirmed, nodding. Baekhyun looked at him, surprised, and noticed that he was unconsciously stroking his palms together, rubbing the fabric of the gloves covering them. His hands were sweating too, because Chanyeol was just as nervous as him.

Finding the thought strangely calming, he finally managed to let out a sigh of relief.

 _Nobody’s here to harm you, dummy. Relax_.

“My father worked at the embassy” Chanyeol explained. “And my family followed him to the North for a diplomatic meeting, but then we got into an accident.”

“An accident?” Baekhyun stupidly repeated. Chanyeol’s eyes met his for the briefest moment, big and honest and scared, and the psychiatrist vaguely wondered what he was hiding so carefully.

“Yes.”

Silence fell again, thicker this time. Baekhyun endured it for a few moments, then felt something snap inside of his head. “We aren’t going anywhere” he growled. “It’s this fucking place. It’s making the both of us uncomfortable.”

Chanyeol stared at him. “Oh? Well, probably. I don’t really like it here. Maybe it’s because it’s all so white and clean... or because it is a mental hospital, after all. People is just not _supposed_ to feel at ease, here.”

Baekhyun stood and approached the window, looking outside. There was a thin layer of ice on the cars in the parking lot, and his fingertips left a little halo of perspiration when he touched the glass.

“You are right” he murmured, mind spinning at crazy speed.

He thanked God that Joonmyeon wasn’t around, and that nobody was there to witness what he was about to do. They would probably call him unprofessional and incompetent again, but he didn’t care. He wanted to help Chanyeol, of course, but he also wanted to help himself, this time. He was determined.

“Listen” he said, “we could...”

Chanyeol was looking at him quizzically. “Yeah?”

 _No. No. Stop. Think of Sehun and of the damage you’ve done. Focus. FOCUS. Don’t do anything stupid, this time_.

Baekhyun sighed. “Sorry. Nevermind. Thanks for answering my questions, I’ll go check some records at the library and then I’ll come back. Until then, make sure to eat healthily and to make yourself comfortable, okay?”

His heart was beating hard, and his temples were pounding. That had been close, he thought. He had been about to ruin everything, just like that time with Sehun. Of all things, how could he even think about doing something so foolish like letting that guy out of the clinic and bring him to his house?

 _It’s just because he isn’t sick at all, like me. It’s not wrong. I just wanted to be nice_.

Excuses. All lame excuses. He still knew nothing about that guy, he had nothing to prove that he was saying the truth.

_But he came all the way here, just to meet me... am I not failing him, behaving like this?_

Chanyeol was still staring at him, motionless.

“Sorry” Baekhyun whispered, grabbing his folder and rushing away. He was about to open the door, when the man suddenly grabbed him by his wrist and yanked him back inside.

He yelped, startled, and he dropped the folder, whose pages scattered all over the floor.

“What are you doing?” Chanyeol growled. “Are you going away? I didn’t come here for this.”

Baekhyun gasped. Something was different with Chanyeol’s face and eyes, as if someone else was now speaking instead of the timid guy he met previously. This someone was authoritarian and intimidating, and his grip was terribly strong.

“I—“ he began, scared, but his throat suddenly clamped down, refusing to let out any sound.

It was just like that other time, when he cried and cried until he couldn’t scream anymore...

Then, just as quick as it happened, everything was over. Chanyeol’s hold around his arm loosened, and Baekhyun was free.

“I am sorry” Chanyeol said, looking astonished, “I didn’t mean to grab you like that. But... are you really leaving? I feel like I haven’t told you anything yet...”

Baekhyun tried to smile, but found out that he couldn’t. He was covered in sweat and trembling hard.

“I told you” he said, “need to check something first. I’ll be back soon so don’t worry.”

Chanyeol knelt to collect his papers from the floor and handed them to him. “Well... I’ll see you later then?”

Baekhyun just grabbed everything and went past the door the quickest he could.

\---oOo---

Later, in the gentlemen’s restroom, he washed his face and hands countless times, until he finally felt calm enough to think.

He really went to the clinic’s library, afterwards, but he just ended up wandering among the shelves without seriously looking at any records. He was already aware that there wasn’t anything helpful there... he practically knew by heart every single article about visions and their medical implications, because he looked for informations in the whole library a lot of time ago.

He lost track of time until his stomach started growling, and at lunchtime he finally decided to venture into the canteen to grab a bite. He immediately located Joonmyeon’s white nape and narrow shoulders (he was eating all alone at a small table, the proverbial boss’s solitude), and he carefully avoided him. He took an apple, a small serving of rice and some turkey wraps from the counter, then sat by the window to eat quietly on his own.

He could still hear other people talking about him, though.

“Isn’t he doctor Byun, the lunatic?” a young intern girl whispered to her friend while plucking her plain salad without dressing, perpetually on a diet like every single female Baekhyun met during his life. He noticed that she needed to be careful, though, because her hair was already thinning out on her temples, a sure sign of a severe lack of nutrients. “Wasn’t he suspended?”

“Nope. He’s close to professor Kim, so...”

“He’s kind of handsome, though, isn’t he? The innocent kind.”

“Nah, not my cup of tea. I like manly men.”

Baekhyun almost choked on his food, thinking that it was all terribly funny. Close with Joonmyeon? Him? Gossiping people were really the funniest, and girls thinking that being bald would be better than carrying around a little extra fat were always the best.

He looked outside the window, staring at the sky. Chanyeol had been right, previously: it was milky white, and barely noticeable snowflakes were beginning to dance in the wind. He suddenly thought of Chanyeol, all alone in that aseptic and cold little room like a prisoner, and his chest felt tight.

That man touched him with an intensity that he still found hard to believe.

He really wanted to help him, somehow... but he felt so helpless.

“So? Still brooding? Did you manage to do something productive, today?”

He flinched, realizing that Joonmyeon was standing next to him with a quirked eyebrow. He carefully tried avoiding him, but apparently it didn’t work. “Oh. Hello.”

Without caring about the two squealing interns, who were gushing about Professor Kim’s handsomeness behind their backs, Joonmyeon dragged a chair next to Baekhyun’s. “Listen, I know I’ve been hard with you previously, but I just wanted to shake you a little. You’ve been so depressed, after all the mess with patient Oh, and I felt bad for you. I really mean what I said, you know? I truly believe that you are a very talented psychiatrist, this is why I am not paying attention to all those who want you out of here. I’ve got your back, okay? But you need to show me that my trust isn’t misplaced.”

Baekhyun looked at him, then felt the need to look elsewhere, because his eyes suddenly swelled with tears. “I know” he whispered, not trusting his voice, “and I’m grateful.” He had always considered Joonmyeon as a friend, even if they were so different. One of the very few he had and could rely on.

Joonmyeon nodded and squeezed his hand. “And don’t worry about that lawsuit. I’ll take care of it. I’ll hire a good lawyer that will put an end to this mess.”

Baekhyun nodded, trying with all his might to hold back the tears. He tried distracting himself looking outside, at those pretty little snowflakes falling onto the ground. There was already a thin layer collected on the sidewalks.

“Tell me about your new patient.”

Baekhyun cleared his throat. “Oh, uhm. He is a very weird case.”

“Weird? Define weird.”

“Hm. Well. He is...”

Joonmyeon stared at him, waiting for him to go on. Baekhyun took courage and started talking.

“He said that he came all the way here just to see me, because he shares my same gift. The visions... and stuff.” He wriggled his gloveted fingers, playing idly with his chopsticks and leftover rice.

Joonmyeon sighed. “Baekhyun...”

Baekhyun sighed too. “I know what you are thinking. Mythomania, self-suggestion, I’ve already got it. But I think it’s not only that.”

Now Joonmyeon was looking at him sharply. “What makes you think so?”

“He has a very high IQ. He scored one of the highest percentages at the intelligence tests. Also, no signs of depression, his gaze is very clear, never unfocused or wary. He’s shy, but always goes straight to the point. Doesn’t stutter, doesn’t beat around the bush, which isn’t coherent with the mythomaniacs’ usual profile. Also, for a moment I thought...” he stopped, suddenly reconsidering telling Joonmyeon what he was about to say. The other, though, was too smart not to guess immediately.

“Did he show signs of bipolar disorder? Or manic episodes?”

“...maybe one very quick manic episode, yeah” Baekhyun admitted. “But this could be coherent with the PTSD he was diagnosed after returning from a war scene. Which is weird, considering his age and other factors. He is not a soldier or a diplomat. How could someone like him found himself in the middle of a war scene in the North?”

Joonmyeon shrugged. “Well, there could be a thousand of different explanations for that. I could look into it, if you are okay with that. Not to control you—“ he quickly added, noticing that Baekhyun’s face suddenly dropped at that mention, “just to help. If you are okay with that.”

“That would be great, Myeon” Baekhyun replied, and he was sincere. He squeezed his friend’s hand back, smiling. “I have a request, though. Do you think that patient Park could be moved to one of the guest houses for the time being? The room you assigned to him makes him terribly uncomfortable. I need him to open up a little more, in order to understand him better.”

“I guess there would be no problems with that” Joonmyeon said, “but you better get going, or he won’t be able to move his luggage if it keeps snowing.

Outside of the window, the graceful snowflakes of a little time before already changed into big, fluffy rags coloured in white.

\---oOo---

In the end, Baekhyun himself helped Chanyeol move to the guesthouse. The building, meant for those patients who needed a prolonged treatment or were getting better, was detached from the clinic and organized like a common apartment building, with a small garden in the front and a tennis field in the rear. Baekhyun himself liked smashing a ball or two, from time to time. He found it relaxing.

Snow kept falling at a steady rhythm, and the two of them found themselves struggling with a thick layer of it. Luckily, Chanyeol only brought along a not too big travel bag and a small plastic bag full of comics and crosswords.

“I like them” he said, when Baekhyun looked at it surprised. Another factor not confirming the mythomaniacs’ theory. Even to Baekhyun’s trained eyes, Chanyeol just looked like the ordinary introverted and nerdy kind.

That outburst of rage, though...

“So, how do you like it?” Baekhyun said, trying to sound encouraging, when they finally reached the flat.

Chanyeol looked around, entering the rooms one by one. There was an essential kitchen with an IKEA cupboard, a small bedroom with a single traditional bed, and another that could be used like a sitting or a dining room, with a low table and two cushions. The ensemble was pretty squalid, but Baekhyun tried all his damnest to smile broadly. “Not bad, uh? Surely better than that horrible room they got you before. Also, the floor’s heated” he added, wriggling his toes inside of his damp socks. The wooden floor under his plants felt deliciously warm.

“It’s better” Chanyeol confirmed, quietly, “thanks.”

“There should be enough food and drinks in the fridge and pantry” Baekhyun explained. “No hospital food here. Can you cook by yourself?”

Chanyeol nodded, still a little dazed.

“I hope this will make you feel more at ease.”

The tall man smiled softly, then blushed and scratched his nape in embarrassment. Baekhyun was enthralled by the changes in his personality. He was sure that Joonmyeon was wrong: it wasn’t just bipolar disorder, yet it wasn’t even anything defined like multiple or split personalities. He was becoming more and more convinced that Park Chanyeol’s case could really became what made psychiatrist Byun Baekhyun shine again.

Also... he guy himself was pretty interesting. For other reasons beyond medicine.

“You bought me a coffee before. Can I offer you one now?” Chanyeol asked, opening the cupboard and digging out a coffee can.

“Okay” Baekhyun accepted. He was a little worried, since outside it kept snowing heavily, but he guessed that the buses’ runs would still be regular, maybe a little delayed. “You know, I am very curious about your PTSD. You mentioned being in the North...”

Chanyeol was carefully measuring the coffee powder with a spoon, trying not to dirty his white gloves with brown. “Yes.”

Baekhyun stared at him, trying to interpret his reticence. “You don’t want to talk about it?”

“If it’s not strictly necessary, no.”

“Okay. Let’s talk about something else, then.”

“May I ask _you_ a thing instead?”

Baekhyun was surprised. “What?”

“Oh Sehun” Chanyeol said. “What happened with him exactly?”

For a second, a very long second, Baekhyun felt nothing but pissed. _The little fucker won’t tell me about himself and wants me to talk instead?_ Then, though, he managed to calm down. “I made a mistake. A huge one.” He accepted the cup of warm coffee the other put on the small table in front of him and took a sip, reminding himself to cut down his caffeine intake sooner or later. “The boy was schizophrenic, and he was convinced that a non-existent person was stalking him to kill him. He set up a very complicated scenery in his mind where this older man held a grudge on him because he refused to date him and then tried seeking for revenge. I was convinced – I still am – that he unconsciously tried fighting his own frustrations, first of all his homosexuality, then his oppressive family’s expectations and school, _personifying_ them into this person following him everywhere to kill him. I tried talking to his parents about this, since he still was a minor, but they laughed everything off.”

“Jerks” Chanyeol commented, under his breath.

“Yeah” Baekhyun sighed, remembering Sehun’s face during their sessions, his cheeks streaked with tears of shame and fear. “The real problem, with that poor kid, was his unsupportive family. He was immensely scared of them, of their judgement, to the point that I took a very drastic decision. I just wanted to help him, I swear. I didn’t mean anything bad. But the outcome was...” Baekhyun shook his head, grimacing. “When I took off my gloves and took his bare hands into mine, I could see it all. The shame, the feeling of inadequateness, that overwhelming, burdening fear of not being what his family wanted. And thinking that he was such a pretty boy...”

 _If Joonmyeon’s therapy didn’t turn him into a slobbering old man yet_.

“What happened?” Chanyeol gently pressed on.

“I told him the truth, without sugar-coating anything” Baekhyun whispered, discreetly wiping the underside of his eyes, which was slightly wet, “I told him that the problem was inside of his head, and that if he kept refusing to face it he would end up being eaten alive by his own demons.”

Chanyeol was staring at him, eyes wide.

“I wanted to shake him, to make him feel alive again. The boy was apathetic, depressed, barely got out of his room anymore. I wanted to stimulate him somehow... even to make him angry, if that could be of any use. I couldn’t see him languish in boredom and sadness like that. It was so painful, because I grew attached to him. But then...” He had to stop and drink some coffee, because his throat suddenly dried up. “one day, I went to see him. At first I was relieved, because he looked better than usual. He cut his hair, he dressed up. He was looking good. But then, he tried kissing me.”

Baekhyun stared at the table’s surface, refusing to meet Chanyeol’s eyes. “It happens frequently, a patient that falls for his doctor. It’s one of the basic outcomes of the Freudian _transfert_ , you know. I gently reminded him of my position, and why he shouldn’t do that... and then...”

“And then, he grabbed something sharp and tried cutting his wrists.”

Baekhyun raised his gaze. He didn’t expect Chanyeol to interrupt. “How do you know?”

“I read newspapers. He almost managed to bleed to death, but apparently you managed to contain the main haemorrhage and called an ambulance just in time.”

“Yes” Baekhyun whispered, overwhelmed by the powerfulness of that memory. He could still feel Sehun’s boiling hot blood running through his fingers like water from a faucet while he tried to press a cloth on it. And the boy’s poor, damaged body spasming because of the shock in his arms. He remembered tracking his pulse feverishly, feeling it slowing down and picking up its pace countless times before it eventually started fading.

“I’m so sorry” Chanyeol murmured, shaking Baekhyun awake from his daydream.

“Of course, his family misunderstood the whole situation. They believed I somehow seduced the boy and did unmentionable things, taking advantage of his frail mind before pushing him on the verge of suicide.”

“I believe you” Chanyeol reassured him, and from his tone, he sounded absolutely sincere.

 _There’s still someone who trusts me. Isn’t it some kind of miracle?_ Baekhyun was touched. “Well...”

“There’s something I don’t understand, though. Why did you never try to defend yourself by saying the truth?”

“B-because...” Baekhyun took a deep breath, “because talking about sexual assault, even if I never committed it, makes me terribly nervous.”

He tried his damnest to avoid looking into Chanyeol’s deep black eyes, this time, because he already knew that the boy was smart, and smart people always managed to collect dots in the easiest way.

“So... is this the traumatic even that triggered your visions? Were you assaulted in the past?”

Baekhyun looked at him, helpless.

_Christ. I’ve said it. And to this stranger, of all people... my dirtiest secret._

Chanyeol was still staring at him. There wasn’t disgust or pity in his eyes, but a weird mixture of feelings that Baekhyun couldn’t name properly. The man raised a hand, maybe to pat his shoulder or something, but he stopped midway, mouth gaping open when he caught a glimpse of the scenery out of the window. “Oh, my God!”

Baekhyun followed his gaze, shaken, and when he saw he jumped on his feet.

It wasn’t just snowing a little, now. It was a fucking snowstorm, with swirls of white spiralling in mid-air, trees bending helplessly, electric wires shaking worrisomely. Maybe they lost track of time while talking, because it already piled up, forming a good three inches layer on the street.

“Fuck, oh, fuck” Baekhyun cursed, grabbing his coat, but Chanyeol stopped him.

“Where do you think you are going? It’s dangerous!”

“I need...”

Then, a metallic voice ricocheted above their heads. Baekhyun was aware that there was a interphone linked to the main clinic in the guesthouse’s apartments, but he totally forgot about it.

_To every patient, guest, guardian and personnel member of Kim’s Mental Health Clinic. Due to bad meteorological  conditions, it’s forbidden to get outside. Please stay comfortable inside of your lodgings, the medical personnel will come to tend to your needs as soon as possible. Please be cautious and don’t waste electric power..._

“What!” Baekhyun protested, even if still aware that nobody could hear him, “are you fucking crazy?!”

But then, he heard it: a click, a pretty loud one.

“Baekhyun” Chanyeol whispered, scared, “did we just get locked inside?”

Baekhyun was quivering. “Oh, God. Oh, good God. Joonmyeon, I swear. I’ll kill you.”

Chanyeol was right. They were trapped.

Outside, snow kept falling, while strong winds started howling.


	3. Three

 

Baekhyun spent a good five minutes paralysed, unable to move or take anything even remotely similar to a decision. Meanwhile, Chanyeol was fuming. He kept striding in circles around the table, a dark expression on his face, hands shoved deep into his pockets, shooting deadly stares towards the thickening layer of white that was gathering outside.  

Baekhyun felt utterly confused. That man scared and attracted him at the same time. The shifts in his personality were always sudden and unpredictable, seemingly triggered by a word or a simple happening. The high IQ and the good scoring at the stress tests, though, made an hypothesis of schizophrenia or multiple personality disorder extremely unlikely. Then was Baekhyun supposed to consider those like just simple mood changes? Even PTSD, to be completely frank, hardly fit into Park Chanyeol’s medical evaluation.

He was locked up with someone who was very obviously sick, but he had absolutely no idea whether he was dangerous or harmless, because he hadn’t been able to make a diagnosis yet.

“C-Chanyeol” he said, “if I’m supposed to stay here, I think I need to know more about you.”

The taller man stopped midway of his umpteenth circle around the room, glaring at him. “Do you think I’m happy to be stuck here with you?”

Baekhyun sighed. “I didn’t mean it like that. What I meant was...”

“I’m not fucking going to tell you anything until you tell me what the hell happened to you to trigger the visions.”

A gelid hand grabbed the pit of Baekhyun’s stomach. “Why?”

“I still don’t trust you.”

Now it was Baekhyun’s turn, to feel angered and confused. “What? After all the efforts I made in order to make you feel more comfortable and so on...”

“Yeah, and I appreciated that, but we still aren’t getting anywhere” Chanyeol hissed through gritted teeth. “I gathered it was something that dealt with sexual harassment, but you still refuse to tell me anything more precise.”

This time, Baekhyun really snapped. “And why should I? It’s private. And it’s none of your business!” Chanyeol looked at him, jaw dropping, and in a moment his expression transitioned from stern and arrogant to clueless and hurt. “Your reasons are the same as mine, to be honest. I don’t trust you enough because I don’t know you yet. And since we can’t seem to click well together, then maybe we should really rethink everything over.”

Chanyeol blinked. “What?”

Baekhyun crossed his arms on his chest. “What’s with the lost puppy face, now? I am just stating the obvious. If we can’t do anything, then get out of here and return home. You’re not really sick, and I could always say that I wasn’t able to diagnose you with anything. See? An easy way out.”

“But weren’t you trying to redeem yourself after Oh Sehun?”

“That’s something I need to do. It has nothing to do with you.”

Chanyeol’s face was getting sour again, when Baekhyun’s phone buzzed. “Yes?”

“Where are you?” Joonmyeon wheezed into the speaker. “Everyone is going crazy, and I’ve already tried calling you many times...”

Baekhyun discreetly checked the lost calls icon, cringing when he noticed that he actually had many missed calls. He forgot again that he put his phone on silent mode earlier, it happened to him all the time. “Oh, I’m sorry. The signal must be bad, here. I’m in the guesthouse with Park Chanyeol.”

Joonmyeon audibly sighed. “Good, at least you aren’t trapped outside in the cold. I was seriously worried about you, dumbass. Never scare me like this ever again.”

Baekhyun smiled. Joonmyeon could be cute too, when he wanted. “Okay. Got it. I’m just here with Park Chanyeol, so no need to worry about me.”

“Okay. Listen, there could be a power shortage in a while, we don’t know exactly when. The clinic has an emergency generator, but we don’t know exactly whether it might be effective for the guesthouse too. We might need to save some power in order to keep the main building functional. Please don’t waste any electricity meanwhile, manage the food well and let’s all hope that this fucking storm won’t last forever.”

“Yep.”

“And Baekhyun?”

“Uh?”

“Please pay attention to that man, if you can. There’s something weird about him. His medical records don’t make the slightest sense. He might be an unique case in the history of mental health, or he’s just a scammer. Please, watch out and be careful, okay? I’ll continue researching, meanwhile, since I’m stuck here too.”

“Yes” Baekhyun replied, side-eyeing Chanyeol, who was craning his neck to look outside of the window, oblivious of his words. “Yes, I’ll be careful. Thanks.”

“I’m hanging up now” Joonmyeon said, “take care.”

Baekhyun shut his phone to save the battery, thinking about what his friend just told him. It looked like his doubts about Park Chanyeol were right, if even Joonmyeon shared them.

A pretty scary perspective.

“I’m hungry” Chanyeol suddenly growled. He was behaving like a caged tiger.

Still sitting on the floor, Baekhyun attempted to smile weakly towards him. “There must be food in the pantry. I know it’s always kept well loaded.”

Ignoring his statement, Chanyeol sultrily started to inspect the kitchen’s cabinets and fridge. Baekhyun felt suddenly tired, and leant his head over his folded arms. _I’ll close my eyes just for a second or two_ , he told to himself, but he was suddenly awakened, a few minutes later, when Chanyeol tapped on his shoulder. “Do you want some?”

“What?”

“Rice and chicken” the other replied, speaking slowly through gritted teeth as if he was talking to a dumb kid. “Do you want some?”

Baekhyun found out that his stomach was churning because of hunger, and he accepted the offer. They ended up forming a pretty awkward picture, the both of them sitting on the floor around the small table and digging silently into the food that Chanyeol made. It was pretty good, Baekhyun had to acknowledge it. Pretty damn good, actually.

He cleared his bowl in a flash, and Chanyeol, who was still halfway, glanced at him. “So, did you like it?”

“Yeah” Baekhyun replied, a little ashamed because of his greed. _Chanyeol will think I’m a pig or something_. “You are a good cook.”

Surprisingly, the compliment made the other man blush and beam around a spoonful of rice. “Thanks. I like cooking. It relaxes me.”

“Nice.”

Baekhyun watched him eat, maybe looking at him for the first time. He was aware of the fact that Chanyeol was a handsome man, but seeing him like that, busy doing something so normal, slightly more unguarded than usual, with his perennial frown a little smoother, felt different. He took in his thick hair, his big and almond-shaped eyes, his chiselled nose, his mouth.

 _Nope, Baekhyun. Remember what happened to you_.

“It was someone who hurt you, wasn’t it?”

Baekhyun flinched, taken by surprise. Chanyeol was staring at him with those deep, charcoal-coloured eyes. “I can see it. It shows from your face, from your attitude. Someone hurt you a lot, didn’t he?”

His first reaction was to laugh. A high IQ was hard to beat, after all. But then, he felt cold, terribly cold, and he shivered.

“Ding dong. You guessed right.”

Chanyeol’s voice became more careful. Maybe even a little bit kinder. “Was it that bad?”

“Pretty much like that, yes. I ended up in the hospital.”

“Oh.”

Baekhyun sighed. Now, for some reason, he actually _felt like_ telling everything to Chanyeol, to that stranger.  Maybe he just needed to feel unburdened, or maybe he was just too tired to argue and keep his defences up, who knew.

“Can I see it?” Chanyeol asked, in a very soft voice. “Please. I need to understand you.”

 _I need to understand you_. A very weird statement, and a pretty unnecessary thing on top. It felt strangely touching to Baekhyun, though.

Nobody really cared about understanding him fully, until then.

“Okay” he just replied, very softly. “Give me your hands.”

Mesmerized, Chanyeol lifted his gloveted hands, letting Baekhyun touch his fingers. He was about to take off his gloves, when Chanyeol suddenly stopped him. “No, no, it’s wrong. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have insisted. You have every right not to tell anything. I don’t want to force you...”

But Baekhyun was determined. Maybe he needed that too, or maybe, deep down, he really craved letting someone finally know the full truth, the one he never dared telling anyone, not even his shrink, or his parents, or his closest friends. Nobody ever saw the real him, and he felt as if he had been hiding for his whole life.

“No. I want you to see. Just...” he hesitated, reaching out for Chanyeol’s big hand. In his smaller one, it felt big, warm and slightly damp under the soft fabric. “Just don’t think too lowly of me, okay?”

 _Don’t feel disappointed, if you can_. Because he felt that, if there was someone who could understand his pain, that one could be Chanyeol.

Slowly, he pulled on one of the glove’s fingers, baring Chanyeol’s wrist. He pulled more forcefully, taking off the glove and neatly putting it on the small table. Chanyeol’s hand was really big, with thick fingers and squared nails. He slowly did the same with the other hand, putting the glove next to the other one. Chanyeol never stopped staring at him during the whole process, his expression strangely intense.

Baekhyun couldn’t figure out what he was thinking.

When he was done, he sat back on his heels. “I am ready.”

Slowly, Chanyeol shifted forward. He looked insecure, but he raised his hands nonetheless, and Baekhyun closed his eyes.

He didn’t know what to expect exactly, but he surely never imagined that Chanyeol would take his face between his hands in such a gentle way. For a moment, he felt good – his hands felt good – but then he heard him gasp, and when he realized what he was probably seeing into his mind, all the feelings, the pain and the desperation of that day occurred to him all at once.

\---oOo---

His name was Hwang Ki Joon, and Baekhyun had a huge crush on him. He was seriously one of the most beautiful men he had ever saw – and one of the smartest, on top of that. He was the star of the medical school, charming as a prince, always with his hand raised high in the air to give out the perfect answer to the professors. He was too perfect to be real, and innocent, 20 years old Baekhyun was crazy about him, the kind of crazy in love that would never consider the possibility of his crush to be different from what he pictured. He knew that he was hopeless, though, he wasn’t an idiot. Hwang Ki Joon was just another level, he was outside of his reach. Nevertheless, he never skipped a chance to gravitate around him. For instance, he liked sitting on the table next to his while he ate at the canteen – so that he could see those perfect lips and kissable mouth while he swallowed the food –, or else he followed him in the corridors while he talked to his friends, who were just as smart as him, or when he talked to the girls from the nursing course. They adored him, of course, and Baekhyun hated those bitches who flirted so openly with his Ji Koon.

Later, Baekhyun asked himself many times why he liked Ki Joon specifically, and he reached the conclusion that he developed such a huge crush on him just because he knew for sure that he liked men, just like him.

He found out by chance, one day that at the men’s restroom. He was washing his hands when he heard a rustling noise and a stifled laughter, and then a sound that made his insides melt – a moan. He knew it wasn’t polite to park his nose in something so private, but his feet stayed glued to the floor even when one of the cubicles’ door opened and a couple came out – yes, two boys, both of them looking strangely flushed, dishevelled and bright-eyed. One of them was the infamous Ki Joon who always scored the highest at exams, and he was holding the other boy’s hand. “Thank you” he whispered, before bringing the boy’s knuckles to his lips and kissing them, “I’ll never forget it.”

Baekhyun’s heart was pounding. How could that other boy just laugh so foolishly while that Greek God was staring at him with such adoration in his eyes? He must have been a real idiot.

Then, Ki Joon’s eyes met his in the mirror, and Baekhyun hurriedly grabbed his purse and ran out in the hallway. Since  that day, he started looking for Ki Joon in every moment of his school life. Seeing him, even if just for the quickest moment, made his heart feel at peace. Soon, he even found himself trying to grab his attention, picking up Ki Joon’s stuff if he dropped something, running to sit the nearest he could during the classes they had in common, even trying to get higher grades in order to pick up his interest.

And he succeeded. He managed to pick up his interest, in the end.

Oh, if just he never did anything like that.

He still remembered it so well, the moment when he decided his own destiny. He was sitting alone, at the library, for once concentrating just on some incomprehensible medical textbook, when someone moved the chair next to his. He raised his head, annoyed by the sound, ready to snap, but his heart sank when he noticed that Ki Joon in person was now staring at him with a huge smile on his face.

“Hello” he said. “I think we already met.”

At first, Baekhyun was shy. He had dreamed for ages to be able to sit this close to the object of his wildest dreams, to be able to breathe in the heavenly scent of his cologne, but now he couldn’t even look at him in the eye. He started to relax just after a long time, after Ki Joon made a great effort to put him at ease with jokes and casual chatters.

So, when he asked him out, Baekhyun said yes.

A terrible mistake, but he couldn’t know. He just couldn’t. He never had a boyfriend before, he just nurtured his innocent, teenage dream of love in his little, lonely heart. Was he stupid? Probably. Was he naive? Yes, he was.

But he was just in love, and he got horribly deceived in the end.

Ki Joon invited him to a nice restaurant for dinner. Baekhyun made some really big efforts to make himself handsome, and he could see, not without a lovely sense of personal satisfaction, that his crush had some difficulties taking his eyes away from him.  

Everything felt nice. Ki Joon and him chatted about idle things, exams, school, always the same stuff. Then, after the dessert, Ki Joon asked him to go have a stroll outside, and Baekhyun followed him, his little hand firmly encased in the other man’s bigger one.

They walked together, still busy talking. At first Baekhyun felt good, because he had some wine previously during the dinner and it was still affecting him a little, but then, when the physical exercise helped him to sober up, he couldn’t recognize the neighbourhood around them. “Aren’t we getting a little too far from the campus?”

“Don’t worry” Ki Joon said, “I know a special place.”

Baekhyun followed him while Ki Joon led him towards an old warehouse. “It’s a rave party?” he joked, but weakly. He was starting to feel scared, and he didn’t like that. He wanted Ki Joon to hold him and bring him away, back in the streets full of people where he felt secure.

Then, suddenly, Ki Joon pushed his back, roughly, and Baekhyun stumbled inside of the empty building. He felt his steps echoing inside, and he gasped. “Ki Joon” he panted, “why...”

“So, is it him?”

He froze, hearing that voice coming out of nowhere. Two boys were sitting on the floor a few meters away, smoking something that had a pungent smell and totally didn’t look like regular cigarettes to Baekhyun. “He’s not that pretty, you know.”

Behind his back, Ki Joon chuckled, taking out a key from his pocket at locking the warehouse’s front door quietly. “I think he’ll surprise you” he said, his voice taking a cruel edge that Baekhyun never heard before. “He’s a little minx.”

Baekhyun felt weak on his knees, confused and scared, a deadly mix that made him stand like an idiot, making him unable to turn and run. Bur run where, if the door was locked? _There must be an explanation for all this,_ he tried reassuring himself. Maybe it was just a joke, Ki Joon liked jokes, after all. Maybe it was some sort of initiation, or fraternity ritual, or something that he was too dumb to understand.

“Let me see” the second boy said, the one who kept silent until now. He was tall, and Baekhyun watched in terror while he approached him and took his chin into his rough hand, lifting it so that he could see his face properly. “He wears make up like a woman” he said, cackling. His pupils were blown, his speech a little slurred, and Baekhyun was sure that he took some drug. “Even if I’ve seen better.”

And all he could do was stay put and tremble in fear, like an idiot.

“Ki Joon...” he whispered, looking towards his beloved in search of help, but he stopped when he noticed that his glance turned as hard as steel.

“On your knees” Ki Joon ordered, fumbling with the fly of his elegant trousers.

Baekhyun’s mouth went dry. “I...”

“I said, on your knees.”

In the end, he did it. He opened his mouth and swallowed the appendage. It made him choke, and he pulled aside to relieve his stomach when he felt too sick.

“Ew” Ki Joon groaned, “you’re so dirty.” And without any warning, he kicked him on his side, sending him on the floor, right in the middle of the little pool of his own fluids. Baekhyun freaked out and started crying desperately, shame, fear and disgust all coming at him together, but then the tall unknown pulled him towards himself.

“Don’t be an ass, Ki Joon. You’re scaring the kid.” He petted Baekhyun’s hair, cooing with his slurred voice. “Don’t cry, kid. Come to uncle. I’ll take good care of you.”

Baekhyun didn’t know what to expect, but when he heard a zip being pulled, he started whimpering. “No, no... please...”

“I love it when they beg” the unknown said, pushing his cock onto Baekhyun’s mouth.

So, it began anew. Baekhyun was grossed out, scared, no, _terrified_. He couldn’t think straight, and when he tried he found out that he couldn’t. All he could do was stay there, being played by those sick perverts like a doll.

His mouth was still full when Ki Joon pulled him violently back, starting to tug at his clothes. “Off. Strip down.”

Baekhyun held onto his shirt. “Why? Why are you doing this to me?”

Ki Joon hit him hard, right across his face, and Baekhyun screamed. “Strip” he repeated, slowly. “I’m so annoyed with you. Can’t you even do this right?”

Crying in shame, Baekhyun did as he was told. He didn’t know why he kept obeying. He had no idea. Was it to save his life? Or maybe because, deep down, he was just a pervert, just like those people?

Maybe. Maybe it was just like that.

Ki Joon pushed him on his knees again, and then on all fours. “No” Baekhyun whispered, knowing what was going to come next. “No, please...” It was awful. He was stark naked, trembling, humiliated, and those people wanted him to do something even more degrading. He started sobbing. “Ki Joon...”

Begging was useless. Ki Joon, the handsome and always so perfect Ki Joon, pushed his face onto the ground and started abusing him, while the other two watched. Baekhyun had never felt such a tremendous pain in his whole life. He wished he would faint, but every blow was a new agony, and it always kept him awake. He weakly protested when one of Ki Joon’s friends yanked his head forward and pushed his cock past his lips – he didn’t even know which one of the two, he didn’t remember. Everything felt blurred, confused, but the pain, oh, that was so real.

After a while, he stopped fighting. He just laid there, letting them play with his body. His mind was elsewhere, in a dark, miserable place, where it meekly contemplated his wrongdoings. What did he do to let Ki Joon think that he could do something so horrible to him? Maybe he overdid. Maybe Ki Joon mistook his clumsy attempts of seduction, thinking that he liked that kind of things. Maybe he did it all wrong.

Because Baekhyun surely did something wrong... otherwise, what could explain that situation? It was just crazy, thinking that it just happened randomly, without a reason, just because some guys smoked too much weed, got bored and wanted to be entertained in such a way.

When they were done with him, Baekhyun had no strength left to move. Every bone of his body hurt, he could taste vomit and other disgusting flavours on his tongue, and of course the throbbing pain of the part of him that had been violated, that was the worst of all. He could feel his rapists’ semen trickle down his thighs, he would have liked cleaning himself, wiping it away, but he couldn’t move. He just lied there, listening to the three young men discussing about his fate.

“We should lock him somewhere.”

“He’s hurt. What if he’ll get an infection, or something?”

And then, Ki Joon’s voice. “Kill him.”

Baekhyun shivered. Ki Joon. What happened to the handsome, charming man he thought he knew? Was it all a product of his mind? Did he ever exist for real?

He felt so stupid.

“Kill him?” the other protested. “But...”

“If he talks, we’re screwed.”

“I know, but...”

“Guys” the third one, the one who rarely talked, suddenly intervened, “I think he passed out. His eyes look weird.”

In the end, since nobody was brave enough to finish what they began, Baekhyun was simply thrown outside in the empty alleyway, and everyone left.

He had no idea for how long he remained there, alone, in that state, with nothing to cover up his nudity and the ruin of his body.

He tried crying, but his tears wouldn’t come out. He felt so cold, so lonely. He found himself wishing for one of his torturers to come back to check on him, and he felt deeply ashamed of himself.

A woman found him in the morning. Baekhyun was too weak to even move his head to grab her attention. He vaguely heard her talking, _sweetie, don’t worry, I’m calling the cops and an ambulance, they’ll help you,_ marvelling because she didn’t seem keen on touching him.

 _I must be so gross_.

Paramedics expertly took care of him. Baekhyun’s condition was terrible, because he lost a lot of blood and needed stitches. Also, he had two cracked ribs and a slight concussion. What worried the doctors the most, though, was his psychological condition. He was so apathetic that he refused to eat and even to drink, and he didn’t want to be alone in his hospital room. His family came to visit – but it was so awkward. They were kind enough to avoid asking him unnecessary questions – _how? Why?_ – but still, Baekhyun couldn’t take any comfort from their presence. To be honest, he wished for them to go away. They made him feel even more ashamed of himself.

He lost a lot of weight, unknowingly trying to starve himself. He laid in a hospital bed for long, until he decided that it had been enough.

He didn’t know that he had that force inside of himself. He didn’t know until he find out that, even all that happened, even after all the pain he endured, he could still stand on his two feet, walk around, do things.

Call it resilience, call it survival instinct. Two months after nearly dying after the gang rape, Baekhyun returned to medical school and switched his major to psychiatry.

A few years later, he met Kim Joonmyeon, and then Oh Sehun.

Lastly, Park  Chanyeol.

\---oOo---

Baekhyun opened his eyes. Chanyeol was still holding his face, his hands so warm, the palms soft against his cheeks.

He let him go slowly, and Baekhyun averted his gaze, not to see the shock in his eyes.

“Baekhyun, I...”

“It’s okay” he whispered. “There’s no need to say anything.”

Then, without any warning, the lights went off. Baekhyun yelped, surprised. “What happened?” he gasped. “Did the power go off?”

He heard some rustling in the darkness, some fumbling. He was already a nervous wreck, and when Chanyeol suddenly grabbed him, he screamed.


	4. Four

 

Baekhyun was panicking. Chanyeol’s arms were holding him tightly, squeezing all the air away from his lungs. He felt trapped, helpless, and he didn’t know how to defend himself.

 _Jesus, it’s starting all over again_.

No, he wasn’t having any of that, this time.

He tried pushing those unwanted arms away, but then Chanyeol talked, in a very peaceful voice. “It’s okay, I think it’s just a power shortage. Since it’s a clinic, they must have an emergency generator ready to use. This blackout won’t last long.”

Baekhyun gulped, trying to calm down. Nothing, in Chanyeol’s tone, was pressing or demanding. He was just holding him. No, actually, he was hugging him with care.

When the lights came back with a buzz, Baekhyun found himself completely frozen, still clad in that gentle hug. Previously, in the darkness, he somehow leant his head against Chanyeol’s chest, feeling his heartbeat through his bony collarbone. It was a very weird feeling, being so close to someone he barely knew. Soon, his own heart adjusted to that rhythm, following Chanyeol’s steady and collected pace, and Baekhyun felt them beat at the unison.

So weird, yet, so peaceful.

Suddenly, he felt weak, drained of any energy or will to move away, and he just stood there, leaning heavily on the other man, who just kept holding him without any apparent reason. His scent was earthy and familiar, so distinctively masculine. What was happening exactly, though? It was such an uncommon thing to do from Chanyeol’s side, hugging another male so intimately, especially after getting to know that he was sexually assaulted in the past...

He finally managed to detach himself, taking one step back. He felt unstable on his knees, and his breathing was still uneven. “Sorry... took me by surprise, I guess.”

Chanyeol lowered his gaze. “It’s alright.”

 _Wait, he’s not going to say anything?_ Baekhyun couldn’t understand. _How can he remain so quiet after what he supposedly saw?_

Unless he had been lying all the time, of course, and he actually saw nothing.

Slowly, not really trusting his wobbly legs, Baekhyun sat on the floor. He took his head between his hands and drew in a shaky breath.

“I feel sick” he murmured, and he was sincere. He couldn’t analyze the way he felt. He was pretty sure that Chanyeol’s unexpected hug scared him, previously, but there was something more. His stomach felt uneasy, and his mouth was dry. “Maybe I’ve caught a bug, I don’t know.”

Chanyeol stared at him for a moment before sitting down across the floor. Baekhyun didn’t dare raising his gaze to meet his, because he was afraid of what he could see in the other man’s eyes. He could still feel that heartbeat echoing against his own, the heat and the hard cords of muscle and bones surrounding him.

“I won’t say that I am sorry” Chanyeol whispered, so quietly that Baekhyun doubted he actually heard it.

“What?”

“For what happened to you” the other specified. “I won’t say it.”

“Oh, that” Baekhyun murmured, a little hurt. _Rude_ , he thought. “Why?”

“Because it’s pointless. And won’t do anything to make you feel better. Something so horrible, can’t be erased with simple words.”

Baekhyun blinked. That statement, although brutal, sounded strangely heartfelt.

And even if it didn’t make the slightest sense, it made him feel comforted.

“Oh, I see. It’s alright.”

“No, it’s not alright” Chanyeol instantly replied, making him blink again, this time twice. “Fuck, they _took turns_ with you, and then they just left you there, like... and they _left_. They were such monsters to you. So heartless, and you did nothing to deserve that.”

He ran both his hands through his hair in frustration. Baekhyun couldn’t stop staring at him, fascinated. He didn’t realize that he was so outraged, before. He had been tried to hide his feelings behind a curtain of indifference, but he failed, and the storm bubbling beneath the calm surface was starting to show.

“They were so cruel. Did they paid for their wrongdoings, at least?”

Baekhyun shrugged. “Ki Joon went out of prison quickly, freed on parole I think. His family is rich,  I guess. I don’t know about the other two... I forced myself not to look into those people after I got back to medical school. They were expelled, I couldn’t ask for more.”

“Are you kidding?” Chanyeol was fuming. “I would have fucking ripped their bellies open. Christ, Baekhyun...”

Baekhyun couldn’t believe it, when he saw Chanyeol’s eyes become glassy and his face scrunching up in the attempt of holding back the tears. He kept looking, absolutely mesmerized, while the other successfully overcame that moment of weakness, swallowing his emotion back and wearing that cold mask again.

Chanyeol stood again. “Oh, God, it hasn’t stopped snowing yet. I feel restless. Fancy a snack? I need to keep my hands busy.”

“Okay” Baekhyun mechanically replied, standing to follow him into the small kitchen. There, he just stood awkwardly while Chanyeol inspected the fridge and the cabinets.

“French toasts? How does it sound?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Good” Chanyeol said, adding a tiny, shy smile. Baekhyun felt something weird happen to the pit of his stomach when he saw that smile, and he nervously crossed his arms on his chest, not knowing what to do.

“Shall I help you, or something?” he asked, trying to be polite.

“You might crack these two eggs open and beat them.”

“Err...”

“Look, like this.” Chanyeol gently took the chopsticks from Baekhyun’s hand, showing him how to crack the frail eggshells open and mix the yolks and whites together. Baekhyun watched his big hands, now finally bare, in all their glory for him to see, moving with such knowledge and skills. He clumsily tried following the advice, doing the best he could, and when Chanyeol looked up at him with a corner of his mouth turned upwards he felt absurdly relieved. For some reason, he didn’t want Chanyeol to see him fail.

Chanyeol soaked four slices of bread in the egg mixture and fried them in a pan with a generous amount of butter. Baekhyun couldn’t take his eyes away from him, who was moving with such confidence and skills.

“Ready.”

They sat around the little table again, their legs folded underneath, while tasting the food. It was scorching hot and comforting to Baekhyun, who actually felt very tired after the emotional rollercoaster of the last few hours. He didn’t care much of what he ate, but he was definitely glad that Chanyeol sprinkled an unhealthy amount of sugar on top of the golden fried bread. He definitely needed some sweetness, in that moment.

“Thanks. It’s very good.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

Silence awkwardly fell between them again, while they both cleared their portion. Baekhyun knew that it would happen, since what Chanyeol saw was really hard to process, but he actually was more worried about the unexplainable inner turmoil he himself was experiencing.

Was it... a sexual feeling? After basically reviving a rape memory? And after just a simple hug?

 _Focus, Baek, focus. You’re losing your mind_.

True, Chanyeol was attractive, and they were sharing a very small apartment due to unexpected reasons. True, he had strictly forbidden himself to indulge in thoughts even remotely related to sex, after his trauma (and that, to be honest, was the reason why Sehun’s accident scarred him so deeply, because he didn’t expect it in the slightest).

“I must have scared you, before” Chanyeol suddenly said. “I’m sorry. But, you see, I actually got scared too. That’s why I reached out for you like that.” He paused, biting on his lower lip. “You didn’t... you didn’t think that  I wanted to take advantage of you, did you? I totally didn’t mean it like that.”

Baekhyun smiled and shook his head. “I just got surprised, that’s it. Don’t worry about that.”

Chanyeol, though, didn’t look reassured after his words. “You must dislike physical contact a lot. I must have put you in a difficult situation.”

“No need to blame yourself, really.” _And, to be frank..._ “I actually didn’t mind being close to someone, in that moment. I hate darkness and cold more than anything else, to be honest.”

“Oh, I’m happy to hear that. I am so... uh, I was glad I finally got to know something more about you, and I was afraid you would start distancing from me again after that thoughtless act.”

Baekhyun looked at him, surprised, and Chanyeol held his gaze, although shyly. “You know, before, when I told that I didn’t trust you yet? Well, I changed my mind now.”

Now he had Baekhyun’s full attention, while he scratched the back of his head and gulped, in search of the right words. “I am sorry” he added, whispering, “for all the pain that you suffered, but please let me say that I also admire you a lot. You are a very strong person, for having been able to become a doctor and get back on track after all that happened. I wish I was as strong as you, to be honest. I envy you a little.”

Baekhyun stared at him for all the time he spoke, his cheeks burning. He couldn’t remember last time he got praised for something, and surely nobody ever called him strong. It was a good feeling, though. It made his chest feel warm, and his eyes tingle. “I don’t think I am worth any admiration” he said, chuckling, “but well, thank you.”

Chanyeol smirked mirthlessly. “You are welcome.”

Baekhyun shivered, looking around for his white coat. He took it off previously while he cooked with Chanyeol, because he didn’t want it to get stained, but now he felt cold without it. “Isn’t it cooler? Feels like so.”

“Yes” Chanyeol agreed, feeling the floor with his hand. “The tiles are getting colder too. Probably they are trying to save power.”

“Are you saying they’re going to let us freeze in here?” Baekhyun scoffed. “Joonmyeon, really.”

Chanyeol, though, wasn’t listening to him. He stood and looked around, a weird expression on his face. “What’s wrong?” Baekhyun asked.

“Well... it’s getting late, and you are hella tired. I’ll prepare the bed, you can have it.”

“No way. It’s yours” Baekhyun protested, but Chanyeol ignored him, opening a closet and starting to lay out the thin mattress and the blanket. He was going to add other reasons why he couldn’t get the bed all for himself, when he actually noticed that it was meant for two people, and he instantly muted. Even Chanyeol was staring blankly at the two identical pillows while taking them out of the closet, unsure of what to say.

“Or, uhm, you know, since the heating isn’t working properly and stuff...”

“Yeah?”

Baekhyun’s heart was beating at a crazy rhythm, his cheeks were burning. Chanyeol, who was just as embarrassed as him, met his gaze for the briefest moment before looking elsewhere and starting to fluff out the pillows with great care. “I was thinking, maybe we could both sleep here.”

“No way” Baekhyun said. “I’ll just sit here, and lay my head over the table.”

“Yes, and get stiff neck and back in the morning” Chanyeol replied. “Don’t worry. I won’t touch you. I mean... I am not like...” his voice trailed off, while he couldn’t find the words to assure Baekhyun that he wouldn’t harm him. Baekhyun stared at that big man trying to be considerate, and instead of feeling worried, he found his efforts strangely touching.

Also, he already was terribly tired. And to be honest, he couldn’t stand the thought of sleeping in a sitting position.

“Well... I’ll just say thank you, then.”

Chanyeol smiled awkwardly. He was blushing, and the tips of his ears were tinged red. _Cute_ , Baekhyun thought, before he could help himself.

 _This man is so cute_.

They stopped talking, both shyly turning their backs to remove their sweatshirts. Baekhyun peeked at Chanyeol just once, noticing that he was getting rid of his trousers as well, so he did the same, trying not to look at his long legs (they were thin and arched, and his feet looked enormous). He waited, cross-legged like a nervous teen, while Chanyeol went to the bathroom first, and then he went too. He rinsed his face, checked his body for weird or embarrassing smells and he sighed, spotting his scrawny knees in the full-length mirror. He wished he was more handsome, even if he had no reason to. He was aware that a rape victim was bound to have a negative body image of himself, it was just normal, but suddenly he felt strangely depressed, noticing the way his body hair did nothing to make his short legs look any better.

He came back padding on the cold floor, and he slipped under the cover the quickest he could, nestling himself uncomfortably on the edge of the mattress. Chanyeol, who was sitting on the futon, glanced at him and looked like he was about to say something, but in the end he didn’t, just doing the same and laying on the opposite side. There was a good empty space between them, and Baekhyun finally started relaxing, sleepiness starting to take over him.

“I’m turning off the lights” Chanyeol announced, sliding away.

“Uh, can you leave the kitchen lights on? I don’t like full darkness.”

 _You know, after laying half-dead in a freezing and dark alleyway and stuff_.

Baekhyun felt ashamed of himself, but he really couldn’t sleep if there wasn’t a tiny bit of light in the room. It really triggered many unwanted memories.

Chanyeol, though, didn’t look bothered by his request.

“Okay” he just replied, walking to the kitchen to leave the small light above the stove on.

Baekhyun waited for him to get back under the covers, noticing that, even if they weren’t touching, he could feel the difference when he was there. It was like his body radiated some warmth that the quilt wasn’t able to convey.

“Chanyeol?”

“Uh?”

He sounded sleepy already, and Baekhyun regretted talking, but now it was too late. He had to know, or he would get crazy. “Chanyeol, when you said you thought I was strong, before... did you really mean that?”

A yawn. “Yes.”

“Thank you, Chanyeol.”

“It’s alright.”

Baekhyun curled up in a ball, trying to make himself comfortable, but he could feel the cold floor through the mattress, and he couldn’t warm himself up. Sleeping would be impossible, and he was so tired.

“Come here.”

“What?” Baekhyun whispered, surprised.

“Just come here. You’re shivering. Come on... I won’t do anything. Just, if you want, I could hold you. Just like before.”

Baekhyun almost choked, remembering the way Chanyeol hugged him when the lights went down. “Oh, no. No, there’s no need...”

But Chanyeol was already sliding closer, and he felt his breath hitch in his throat when Chanyeol’s long arms wrapped him in a gentle hug, spooning him from behind. He squirmed, embarrassed, because body parts that weren’t supposed to touch now came in contact, and he hadn’t been prepared for that assault of feelings.

“Relax” Chanyeol whispered, feeling his tension, “breathe. I won’t hurt you. I’m not some weird person. I just want you to calm down and sleep.”

Baekhyun felt the tension gradually abandon his body. Actually, he had to acknowledge that Chanyeol was right: he felt good, in his arms. He felt so good that a hidden, forgotten part of him awakened and started making him feel things.

He turned, carefully and slowly, as if Chanyeol was some wild animal who could just run away if he moved too quickly, and suddenly he gawked at the beauty of his face, which was just so close, maybe too close, but so nice in the dim light, all high cheekbones, generous lips and sparkling eyes. Because they were really sparkling, as if little cold fires were burning in their depths.

Unable to stop himself, Baekhyun raised a finger and touched the side of that beautiful face.

He expected Chanyeol to back away and look startled, but he just stayed in place, looking at him calmly.

Baekhyun was in awe. Chanyeol’s cheek was warm, his skin soft and smooth except some slight stubble covering his chin. That was the moment when he stopped thinking.

He moved forward a little, stretching out his neck, and touched Chanyeol’s cheek with his lips. His scent was overpowering, and Baekhyun’s head was spinning. He felt slightly drunk, and not completely conscious of what he was doing, so he barely realized about Chanyeol’s big hands crawling up to his shoulders to keep him a little more distant.

 _Oh, my God_. Baekhyun stared into Chanyeol’s eyes, feeling panic take over him. _What did I just do?_

“Chanyeol, I’m sorry, I...”

_I stopped thinking? I wanted to kiss you so badly? I craved physical contact for so long that I couldn’t hold back?_

“Go to sleep” Chanyeol simply whispered. He didn’t look mad, and Baekhyun was grateful for that. Still, he could feel his own cheeks burning of shame. “It’s alright” Chanyeol added, noticing his distress, “don’t worry. Just close your eyes.”

Baekhyun decided to follow his advice. He closed his eyes and laid back against the pillow, trying to calm down the furious beating of his heart. He dared to peek from underneath his eyelids, though, noticing the way Chanyeol’s brow smoothened while he drifted into slumber.

 _What’s happening to me?_ , he wondered. _I couldn’t even stand the thought of being intimate with someone, before, but with this man, it’s all so different_. _Maybe it’s because I feel that we are similar? Or because I recently revived my trauma and my feelings are still confused?_

Too many questions, and not even a single answer. Exhausted, Baekhyun closed his eyes again, noting just then, right when he was about to give up and pass out, that Chanyeol’s warm hand was still resting over his side.


	5. Five

Baekhyun woke up blinking his eyes in the dim light. Chanyeol was patting on his shoulder, calling him softly by his name. “It stopped snowing” he whispered, making Baekhyun spring up on the mattress to look out of the window.

“Finally” he breathed. He looked around with drowsy eyes for his phone, and when he found it he groaned, noticing that there were many unanswered calls by Joonmyeon. “Oh, fuck.”

Chanyeol chuckled quietly. “I’ll make some breakfast. Any preference?”

“Uh... everything is okay to me, as long as there’s some coffee on the side.”

This time, Chanyeol laughed aloud, then started charging the coffee maker. Baekhyun sorted through the missed calls list, sighing before dialling his friend’s number.

“Where the hell are you?!” Joonmyeon screamed in his ear.

“Still at the guesthouse with Cha- patient Park.” He cleared his throat, hoping that Joonmyeon didn’t notice the quite revealing wording of that sentence. “I fell asleep. How long has it stopped snowing?”

“Just a couple hours. Are you okay?”

“Yes, why so anxious?” Baekhyun was genuinely perplexed. Joonmyeon sounded panicked.

“Oh. Well” his friend said, sounding relieved, “I couldn’t reach you through your phone, and the guesthouse was still isolated, so I got worried. I guess.”

Baekhyun chuckled. “I am fine, mama bear.”

“Now don’t be sassy. I need to talk to you asap. I made some researches while you were away, since I’ve been stuck here too, about that Park dude.”

Baekhyun held the phone between his shoulder and chin while putting on his trousers. “Cool. Did you find anything interesting?”

“That’s the weird thing, to be honest” Joonmyeon insisted, “there’s absolutely nothing about that guy, in the hospital records of his hometown. I called some private clinics and professionals just in case, but nobody ever took care or heard of him.”

Baekhyun suddenly felt cold. “And what is this supposed to mean...?” He clearly remembered that Chanyeol previously mentioned having been diagnosed with PTSD. But who made that diagnosis, then, if no hospital or private practitioner had records about him? “Wait. Could a medical record of a South Korean citizen be restricted for national safety reasons?”

“What?”

“He talked about going to the North with his father, who is a diplomat. Maybe the military took care of his data.”

Joonmyeon scoffed. “Like putting on it a top secret label? Come on, Baekhyun. This sounds like total bullshit.”

“But you must admit it’s weird, since there are no records about him.”

“That, or he lied.”

Baekhyun scoffed. Joonmyeon was being obsessive as usual. Chanyeol had absolutely no reasons to lie, and if Joonmyeon ever bothered getting to know him better he wouldn’t need to ask such silly questions, but he bit his tongue and didn’t snap at his friend. “I made progresses. I’ll tell you later, okay?”

“Why later? What are you doing? Why can’t you get back now?”

That shower of anxious questions made Baekhyun laugh. “Don’t worry, mommy. I’ll get back for dinner.”

“Baekhyun, don’t be like this. I know a disturbed man when I see one, and from the way you described him to me, he looked anything but mentally stable. Please, I beg of you, don’t get too involved with him.”

_Sure. You don’t want another Sehun affair to deal with. All you care about is your clinic and your good name, as usual._

“Okay” Baekhyun replied, letting none of his inner musings show from his voice. “I’ll call you later. Don’t turn off your phone.”

“Very funny” Joonmyeon grunted, but then he ended the call. Afterwards, Baekhyun went to the bathroom for a quick rinse, then joined Chanyeol in the kitchen.

“Something’s wrong?” the tall man asked. He was eating some yoghurt from a small bowl, and the way he was holding his spoon, keeping the handle tucked between his middle and ring fingers, was absolutely adorable. “What’s so funny?” he asked, confused.

“Sorry” Baekhyun breathed, realizing that he had been holding back his giggles for the whole time he had stared at him, “but your grip is so cute. Makes you look like an oversized kid, I love it.”

Chanyeol stared at his hand for a moment, and then smiled. “I’ve started holding my spoon like this just recently, after my hand got injured in...” He suddenly stopped, probably realizing that he was giving away too many details. “Nevermind. What about some plain yoghurt? The label says it’s 0% fats and stuff.”

Baekhyun accepted the food, but he found himself staring at him while mindlessly eating. He was definitely hiding something big, but being a compulsive liar, just like Joonmyeon said? One thing was pretending all the damn time, another was trying to hide a traumatic or shameful past from someone. And even if it thinking that Chanyeol didn’t feel safe enough around him made him feel a little hurt, he understood his wish to do that.

Big secrets were just meant to be kept hidden, after all.

“About what happened last night...”

Baekhyun dropped his spoon. “Yes?” he asked, on pins and needles.

Chanyeol noticed his anxiety and smiled softly. “Don’t worry. I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“Are you?” Baekhyun retorted. “Because I am.”

“I am fine” Chanyeol confirmed.

“Good.”

“Good.”

They stared at each other, then they both lowered their eyes and started studying their respective yoghurt bowls. _I am such an idiot,_ Baekhyun reproached himself. _Why did I have to kiss him? It totally ruined... what did it ruin exactly? Well, whatever thing that was going on between us_. And he was the one who was supposed to be educated and so on.

“When do you need to get back to work?” Chanyeol asked, rinsing the bowl in the sink.

“Uh? Well, you’re my only patient until now, so I guess I don’t really need to do anything else besides of staying here.”

“Do you enjoy music?”

Again, Baekhyun stared at Chanyeol with wide eyes. “What?”

“Music” the other patiently replied, and since Baekhyun was at a loss of words, he just smirked and stretched out his hand. “Give me your phone.”

Without thinking, Baekhyun just did as he was told, and Chanyeol immediately opened Youtube and started making a playlist. “Music relaxes me” Chanyeol explained, “I thought it might be the same for you.”

“Oh” Baekhyun whispered, blushing madly when he realized the real meaning of those words.

_I want to make you feel at ease_.

“I am fine, Chanyeol, there’s no need...” he stuttered, but then some lounge piano music started playing.

“My favourite composer” Chanyeol explained, putting Baekhyun’s phone on the table. “His music is just the best.”

Baekhyun listened in silence, refusing to meet his eyes. “Uhm. Sounds nice.”

They both sat, motionless, while the music played. The soothing piano had a marvellous, calming effect on Baekhyun’s tense nerves, until Chanyeol got up and reached out for him. “Let’s dance.”

Baekhyun backed away as if he had been burned. “What?”

“Is it all you’re telling me today?” Chanyeol joked, but just half-heartedly. He looked sad, for some reason that Baekhyun couldn’t understand. “Come.”

Baekhyun tried thinking of some good reason to counter bait, but he really couldn’t find any. His tongue was glued to his palate, and he found himself getting on his trembling knees, holding Chanyeol’s hand and standing awkwardly before him. He gasped when Chanyeol guided him to put his left arm around his waist (he was all bone, skin and taut muscle underneath), and held his other hand up. “Let’s just pretend it’s a waltz or something like that.”

Baekhyun started following his lead, and to his utter surprise, they moved good together. He never stepped on Chanyeol’s feet or bumped on him. They just swayed around slowly, according to the music in the background. His gloveted hand was securely encased in Chanyeol’s bigger one, and Baekhyun was feeling good.

_Christ. I am waltzing with my patient and I’m liking it_.

He started giggling out of nowhere, and soon Chanyeol was smiling too. “It’s nice, isn’t it?”

“Yes” Baekhyun laughed back, attempting a pirouette but tripping in the middle.

“Whoops, careful.” Chanyeol held him, preventing him from falling, and in that moment the Youtube video ended and a much faster song started playing. They both accepted the challenge and started bouncing around like crazy horses.

“It really helps relieving stress!” Baekhyun marvelled.

“And thinking that you are the one who is supposed to be a doctor...”

Baekhyun hit him playfully on his shoulder, and Chanyeol mimicked a pained face, making him laugh again.

_He’s just like a kid,_ Baekhyun thought. _He’s so cute_.

But then, just then, his analytic mind started working out of the blue.

Frequent mood swings. Possible compulsive lying. Regressive behaviour. They were all symptoms he already knew, and they belonged to a very specific clinical picture. To those, he mentally added possible Mythomania, OCD and depression, and he suddenly went frantic.

He abruptly let go of Chanyeol’s hand, putting some distance between them. The other watched him in surprise. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing” Baekhyun replied, but it was a blatant lie. “I am sorry, this is such great fun, but I really need to go now. I have to report to my superior and so on.”

He gathered his phone and stopped the music. Chanyeol looked confused, but he didn’t protest.

“Okay. Well, I’ll see you later, I guess?”

Baekhyun put on his white coat, his padded jacket and scarf at light speed, throwing himself outside, in the cold. Some volunteers were shovelling the snow aside to create a passage to reach the clinic’s main building, and Baekhyun carefully walked on the icy surface, trying not to slip. His mind, though, was elsewhere.

_I was waltzing around with a probable schizophrenic patient_.

And then, hiding his nose in his scarf: _how unprofessional of me_.

 

He didn’t go to see Joonmyeon, and he immediately went to the clinic’s library, looking through all the literature available. He lost track of time, and soon he found himself blinking his tired eyelids and trying to hide the noises coming from his growling stomach.

Sighing, he checked the notes he took. Chanyeol’s – no, patient Park’s – clinical picture corresponded to a condition named schizoaffective disorder. It was similar to schizophrenia, but it shared more points in common with bipolar disorder and other mental symptoms linked to depression. It was compatible with a traumatic background, like patient Park seemed to have, and it was well-represented in his frequent mood swings and awkward social skills. What really worried Baekhyun, though, were those moments – just one or two, until now, but according to the medical literature the phenomenon was prone to escalate – when the patient seemed to lose his control and engage in a quick but pretty disruptive psychotic crisis. He remembered well Chanyeol’s outbursts of anger, and how they scared and surprised him.

Chanyeol. He thought of him using his first name again.

Baekhyun leant his head on the books he piled on the desk. _So unprofessional, doctor Byun, so unprofessional_.

Why, why did he feel the need to open up with one of his patients? He let him see things he himself so desperately tried to bury deep. Why did he do that? It didn’t make any sense, now that he thought about it.

_But it felt right while doing that. And he understood me_.

Baekhyun felt like screaming. It was like Sehun’s story was repeating itself. Sure, Chanyeol was very different from the poor, young and impressionable teenager. But he was still a sick person in need, and Baekhyun crossed a line with him that he really shouldn’t have. It was like that, right? He messed up things, again.

He rubbed his eyes, trying to calm down and analyze his feelings coldly. Why did he feel so attracted to Chanyeol, anyway? Just because he was handsome? Nope, that wasn’t a good enough reason. Because he looked like someone who could share Baekhyun’s sexual preferences? Maybe a little, but it wasn’t a strong enough reason yet. Because he held him sweetly, showed compassion and understanding towards his past and tried with all himself to make Baekhyun feel good even in an awkward and forced situation? Because he acted towards him nothing more and nothing less than a fucking Prince Charming?

A Prince Charming with a mental disorder, yeah.

Baekhyun raked his brains. Common cures for schizoaffective disorder were counselling, therapy and, if needed, some mild antidepressants or antipsychotics. It wasn’t a very serious illness, which was good, but it had to be kept monitored.

And what about their shared capability to see people’s past though a simple touch? That wasn’t an illusion. It was true, and Chanyeol proved it to Baekhyun. That was something that medicine couldn’t explain, and it was another point in Chanyeol’s clinical picture that Baekhyun didn’t know how to interpret.

_Should I give up? Ask Joonmyeon for help? Let him assign Chanyeol to some of my colleagues?_

To be completely frank, though, Joonmyeon never gave Baekhyun the signed papers where he officially assigned patient Park to his care, so technically nobody could consider Baekhyun as Park’s psychiatrist in charge.

And following this reasoning, Baekhyun’s behaviour wasn’t unprofessional at all.

Relieved, Baekhyun put all the books and folders away.

Now he felt better, less guilty and angry towards himself.

And he found himself wondering what Chanyeol could be doing, all alone in his small room.

 

He knocked just once, and the door opened immediately, as if Chanyeol sprang up like he had been waiting for him.

“Sorry, took me a while” Baekhyun said, handing him a paper container full of fried chicken. “But I bought food.”

Chanyeol’s warm smile made him feel jubilant.

_I missed him. It’s been just a couple hours, but I missed him_.

They sat together, and Baekhyun barely took a couple bites of his portion, since he was too engrossed in watching Chanyeol’s plump lips attacking the meat. He was such a beautiful man, strong, manly-looking, but with a soft edge that just made his heart melt.

_Shit. I like him_.

It was such sudden realisation, and it made him blush.

_I like him so much_.

“What’s wrong?” Chanyeol asked, licking the bone clean. His rosy tongue darting around made Baekhyun’s body react weirdly.

After all that time, he felt alive, functioning and healthy. As a man.

“Nothing” he whispered, before he could stop himself, “I was just looking at you.”

“At me?” Chanyeol smirked. “But there’s nothing worth looking at.”

“Oh, that’s not true. You are a very handsome man.”

“Am I? Well, thanks. You are very handsome too. I’ve always thought that.”

“If you say so.”

Baekhyun couldn’t believe what was happening. They were flirting, and it felt so natural. Not like doctor and patient, but like two young men who met casually around and liked each other. Nobody, looking at them from the outside, would have ever guessed that he had been sexually harassed in the past and that he loathed physical contact, and nobody, in that moment, would ever imagine that Chanyeol probably had mental issues. He felt strangely free, strangely at ease with himself, for once. And that realisation – _I survived, I am still able to feel, they didn’t succeed in ruining me_ – suddenly made him choke.

“I am not telling lies, Baekhyun” Chanyeol said.

_Baekhyun_. He had such a sweet way to say his name. His voice was so deep it made Baekhyun tingle inside.

“I want you to know” he whispered, keeping his gaze downcast, “that I came here today not as your doctor, but as a man.”

Chanyeol didn’t blink an eye at that statement. “Okay.”

Baekhyun sighed. “Can we...” he started, but then stopped halfway, self-conscious. Maybe it was too much.

“Yes?” Chanyeol gently pressed on.

Baekhyun looked at him in the eye, feeling a pleasant warmth spread in his abdomen. “Could we dance again?”

“Of course.”

Chanyeol helped him on his feet, and then he started conducting, just like last time. They didn’t bother turning any music on, this time, because there weren’t any need. Surprising Baekhyun, Chanyeol started humming a sweet song under his breath, so softly that his voice dissolved in a low vibration. Baekhyun never heard anything more soothing and arousing at the same time, and he was trembling slightly in Chanyeol’s hold.

When Chanyeol started a tune he knew too, he joined. Their hums mingled together, faces drawing closer. Baekhyun wanted to get the closest he could to him.

_He’s so pretty. He’s so gentle. I want him all for me_.

He stood on his tiptoes and kissed Chanyeol’s cheek, but this time he didn’t withdrew so quickly, and his lips indulged for a moment or two over that soft and vibrant flesh. He closed his eyes, shuddering when he felt Chanyeol turn his head and brush his mouth against his.

Chanyeol kissed him on his lips, sweet and gentle.

Baekhyun threw his arms around his neck and deepened the kiss.


	6. Six

 

Baekhyun never kissed anyone, after that doomed day. And he genuinely thought that he would never kiss anyone, ever, again. He spent more or less ten years of his life being lonely and loveless, positive that nothing would have never changed.

But now, everything was different.

Chanyeol’s hands rose to caress his hair, hesitant at first, but touching him more boldly after the first sloppy attempts. Baekhyun sighed, feeling the other man’s thick fingers brush against his ears and along the side of his neck, finding out that it was a sensitive spot. He shivered, savouring those plump lips against his own, the peculiar and slightly coppery taste of that foreign mouth.

 _I shouldn’t be so excited,_ he reminded to himself, _I should be scared..._

But he wasn’t. Not as much as he should, anyway.

He threw his arms around Chanyeol’s neck, which was warm, strong and loaded with thick tendons that tensed under his fingertips in a way that Baekhyun couldn’t have described other than _delicious_.

Chanyeol yelped, startled by that sudden closeness, but then he lowered his arms and let them slide around Baekhyun’s waist, pulling him closer.

Baekhyun finally closed his eyes.

 _Oh, I see. I trust him. This is why it’s like this_.

But what was it like, exactly?

Amazing. _Oh, God. It’s amazing_.

He tried to respond to Chanyeol’s kiss the best he could. He copied the motions of the other’s lips, he closed the distance between them pressing himself flush against Chanyeol’s chest, and he involuntarily keened in the back of his throat when he felt Chanyeol’s thumb brush along his hip, tracing the hem of his trousers until it found the naked skin above.

“Baekhyun” Chanyeol tried to get his attention, but Baekhyun was too busy to talk. Busy tasting those lovely lips, of course, and busy feeling Chanyeol’s jaw under his fingertips. His skin was smooth, with the faintest hint of stubble, and he envied it: he had to shave every day, or he would look like a porcupine...

“Baekhyun” Chanyeol insisted, “I don’t want you to feel compelled to do anything...”

“Don’t worry” Baekhyun whispered, and then pounced on him, resuming the kiss. Chanyeol gasped and stumbled back, hitting the edge of the small table with his ankle and yelping in pain.

“Oh, I’m sorry! It’s my fault!”

“It’s okay, I am not hurt.”

“Good.”

They looked at each other, panting. Chanyeol’s pupils were blown, his expression hungry.

_Careful, Baekhyun, he is a potentially sick man..._

Chanyeol took one step closer, tracing Baekhyun’s lower lip with the slightly rough tip of his index finger.

 _I don’t care_.

Baekhyun slided his arms around the other man’s waist again, wanting to feel his warm chest pressed against his own. There was a thunderous heartbeat, trapped somewhere under the many layers of clothing, and he stilled, trying to listen to it.

Chanyeol’s mouth was hovering above his own, his breath fanning against Baekhyun’s face.

“Are you sure you won’t regret this later?”

A gelid hand grabbed Baekhyun’s stomach.

 _No, I am not sure. But_...

“I am not sure about anything, right now” he whispered, “but I’m positive about a thing: I don’t want to be apart from you. Because... well...”

There was no because, to be honest. It just _happened_. One day Chanyeol came to the clinic, and Baekhyun felt instantly drawn towards him. Chanyeol scared him, attracted him, made him feel alive and functioning. It just happened, there was no other way to explain it.

“Okay” Chanyeol whispered back, hugging him more tightly, “I understand. It’s the same for me, to be honest.”

Baekhyun’s eyes widened. “Do you feel the same?”

Excitement, apprehension and a weird, warm feeling surged all together through his chest.

 _He wants it too_.

“Yes” Chanyeol admitted, lowering his gaze in a bashful way, “and I totally didn’t know how to tell you. You helped me. Thanks.”

Baekhyun was staring at him in awe. A faint blush was spreading on Chanyeol’s face, starting from the tip of his ears, which were tinged crimson. “You are so pretty” he breathed.

“Oh...” Chanyeol didn’t know what to say. “Uh, thanks again, I guess.”

Baekhyun chuckled and caressed the taller man’s cheek with his fingers. His skin was glowing, and it radiated a gentle warmth. “Beautiful” he sighed, before standing on his tiptoes and leaning in for another round of kisses. Chanyeol looked glad that conversation was already over, and he happily responded. He was acting adorably shy, and Baekhyun loved seeing this unexpected side of him. He vaguely wondered if he was experienced or not, if he had a girlfriend in the past or worse, if he was in a relationship in that precise moment.

Yet, he went on kissing him. He clutched onto him as if he was the only lifeline available in the whole ocean. He wanted to drown, but he also wanted to feel alive.

At a certain point, he felt hot and constricted in his own clothes, and he started discarding pieces of them while desperately trying not to break the contact with Chanyeol’s lips. He let his white coat fall onto the floor like a rag, hearing the sound of the various pens and paperclips he kept in the pockets scatter on the tiles. He yanked at his shirt’s collar, forcing the buttons to pop open, and he let out a frustrated whine when he found out that he couldn’t get rid of his wool sweater.  Chanyeol helped him, lifting the garment and revealing the crumpled but immaculate shirt underneath.

“You have such a nice scent” he murmured, burying his face in the crook of Baekhyun’s neck, making him moan softly.

Baekhyun felt those big hands roam all over his still partially clothed chest. They were so big he believed that Chanyeol could easily circle his waist using only his thumbs and index fingers, if he ever wanted to. It was such a sexy thought, but it also scared him a little too.

_Don’t you remember what happened last time you got handled by a man?_

“Chanyeol” he whispered, trying to get the other’s attention, but Chanyeol was busy kissing the exposed skin peeking behind the collar of his shirt. He seemed fascinated with Baekhyun’s throat in particular, because he kept returning to that spot. Baekhyun was pretty sure he would be sporting the marks of those hot kisses later. “Yeol” he called, more urgently, and the other finally stopped, looking at him. He recognized the alarmed note in his voice, Baekhyun thought, because he took a step back and reached for his hand.

“Too fast?” he asked, voice a little husky.

Baekhyun felt split in half. A part of him would gladly throw himself at Chanyeol’s feet. The other half, though, the one he had been trying to ignore, was shaking in fear.

He tried to voice out that feeling, but his throat was too tight, and he just stayed there, looking into his lover’s eyes.

 _Please, understand my heart. Please_.

With a soft sigh, Chanyeol stroked Baekhyun’s hair. “Sorry” he murmured. “Sorry. I got carried away and forgot about you. I’m so sorry.”

Baekhyun wanted to deny, to tell Chanyeol that he shouldn’t worry because he did nothing wrong, but the man kept stroking his face. “Let’s agree with this” he suggested. “When you say ‘stop’, I’ll stop. When you say ‘too much’, I’ll slow down. And if you ever said ‘leave me alone’, I’d do it. Okay?”

“God, Chanyeol, I’m so sorry” Baekhyun finally managed to murmur, flustered and angered towards himself. “I’m such a big bundle of problems, really...”

“It’s okay” Chanyeol whispered, kissing his cheek gently, “slowing down a little works best for me too.” Baekhyun stared at him, and Chanyeol blushed slightly again. “To be honest, I’m not as confident as I look.”

They shared a little embarrassed laugh, and finally Baekhyun started to feel less tense. “Then you too” he said, “please, tell me if it’s too much. I don’t want to ruin anything between the two of us.”

Chanyeol hummed in agreement, and then their lips met again. Slower, this time, more sweetly. Baekhyun felt understood, and he believed he understood his lover too.

 _Lover_... _what a nice word_.

While he got rid of his fears, one by one, he finally got the meaning of all those common sayings about love that he read or heard until then. Losing himself in his lover’s embrace. Becoming one. Sharing something intimate, immense and precious. Skin gliding over other skin. The scent of physical love, musky and peculiar. His lover’s heartbeat, his breath, his body heaving over him.

Oh, how he loved it.

Chanyeol helped him out of his clothes, making him lay down gently on his back. His dark eyes were mesmerizing, when he asked for permission to go on, and in spite of his dry mouth, Baekhyun managed to find somewhere the strength to say yes.

Slowly, Chanyeol worked him open. Baekhyun closed his eyes somewhere in the middle of the procedure, but he marvelled when he found out that he liked it more if he kept them wide open, focusing on the other man’s concentrated frown. He was handling him with such care, in spite of his enormous hands and muscular, somewhat intimidating body frame. Baekhyun couldn’t stop watching him in awe, sometimes interrupting his ministrations demanding a kiss, or nuzzling his face in the crook of Chanyeol’s neck. His scent, which he barely noticed before, was now intoxicatingly nice to him.

He was a doctor. He knew how the human body functioned, its mysteries and its chemistry, but he felt a novice – or maybe, the more appropriate term was _virgin_ – while Chanyeol slowly made pleasure blossom in the depths of himself. Baekhyun clung onto him while the bigger man’s finger searched around, trembling when it brushed against a sensitive spot. He could name all the tissues, all the areas Chanyeol was touching... but he never knew that love could be like that. He felt like he still had lots to learn...

Finally, Chanyeol entered him gently, making Baekhyun sob softly. It burned, but he focused on Chanyeol’s lips, which were on his cheek, on his mouth, on his ear. Those lips were gentle, those lips were loving. They meant no harm. He just laid there, breathing deeply, stroking Chanyeol’s back, refusing to think, to remember, to reason. And, he found out, that was pretty easy to do.

He would have paid billions to take off his gloves, in that precise moment, just to feel the consistence of Chanyeol’s skin under his fingertips.

He attempted shifting a little, and the friction didn’t hurt him. “You okay?” Chanyeol whispered, noticing his move. “Shall I go?”

 _Oh, my God_.

“Yes” Baekhyun breathed, hugging him tight and bracing himself.

Many things happened, after that moment. Baekhyun found himself moaning softly, instinctively moving as if he already knew that peculiar dance. And still, what made everything beautiful was his lover, who was sweet, patient, affectionate. 

He felt the orgasm start from the core of his body, little shocks of pleasure radiating through his limbs, reaching every pore of his skin. He shook helplessly in Chanyeol’s arms, his eyes firmly closed because he wanted to savour every bit.

Chanyeol came with a sigh – such a soft, barely audible sound – and Baekhyun kept holding him tight while he trembled and poured himself inside of him. He felt the hot rush, and then, again, Chanyeol’s lips on his throat.

“Baby” Chanyeol whispered, and suddenly Baekhyun turned blind.

For a split second, he panicked. But then he felt the familiar wetness on his cheeks, and the familiar taste on his lip. He tried turning his head to the side, hoping that Chanyeol didn’t notice anything, but the man was already propping on his elbow.

“Baekhyun? Baekhyun, what’s—“

He stopped halfway, swallowing down the urgency of his question. “Sweetheart” he murmured, stroking Baekhyun’s damp fringe with his fingers, and that was when Baekhyun really lost it, bursting into sobs.

Chanyeol didn’t say anything else. He just held him, their bodies still linked, his lips still firmly planted on Baekhyun’s cheek. He let him cry, and when Baekhyun finally calmed down, he gently slipped away from him and cleaned the both of them with a wet wipe.

“I didn’t cry because I was sad” Baekhyun felt the need to tell, while they laid together, afterwards. “I just needed to let it out, I think.”

Chanyeol just smiled, his hand still toying with Baekhyun’s locks. “I know.”

“I don’t want to go home.”

“Don’t even try.”

Baekhyun smiled, while Chanyeol wrapped him in a killer hug. “It feels like we wasted so much time dancing in circles before coming to this. Is it the same for you?”

Chanyeol’s answer was a gentle kiss.

That night, Baekhyun died and was born again.

And his lover did the same, along with him.


	7. Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read carefully the warnings before of this.

 

 

Baekhyun woke up smelling grilled ham and fried eggs, but even if his stomach started growling on the spot he refused to open his eyes and he just stayed in bed, basking in the duvet’s warmth and stretching his limbs languidly. “I see you, sleepyhead” Chanyeol sing-sang from the small kitchen, “don’t pretend you’re still asleep.”

Baekhyun giggled. That must be one of the longest sentences Chanyeol ever told him, and he hid his face in the pillow, finding it immensely funny. He didn’t move, though, listening to the sizzling sounds of the frying pan and the ticking of the chopsticks Chanyeol used to mix the eggs.

“Not coming? Fine, I’ll bring you food.”

“Good boy” Baekhyun sighed, stretching again and making his small feet peek from under the duvet. Chanyeol knelt to playfully pull on his toes, and Baekhyun let out a small cry, making the other smirk. They sat together on the messy covers, tasting food directly with their fingers from one single plate.

“It’s very good.”

“It’s just ham and eggs, no big deal.”

“You’re talking to someone who could burn off the kitchen if he ever tried.”

“Are you serious? You totally don’t look like that.”

“I’m afraid cooking is not my thing.”

Baekhyun cleared his throat, perfectly aware that Chanyeol had been staring at his mouth for a while. “I mean, I usually eat at the clinic’s canteen, and when I’m at home I just order delivery stuff. I know it’s unhealthy, but...” His speech slowly became inaudible, merging into a confused blabbering. Chanyeol had stopped eating, and was staring at him with his black eyes. “Err...”

Chanyeol’s lips captured Baekhyun’s in a hungry kiss, and the doctor just gave in. His lover tasted like delicious food, but the pleasant shiver that ran through his spine had absolutely nothing to do with hunger. “I’m sorry” Chanyeol whispered, in between kisses, “I didn’t ask if you were alright.”

“I am” Baekhyun replied, running his finger among Chanyeol’s hair, feeling the hot temperature of the scalp underneath. He could just kiss him all day, and his day would be perfect. “I am just a little sore, but it’s not very different than how you feel after a good sweat at the gym. Not that I go to the gym that frequently, but you get what I mean.”

Chanyeol giggled against Baekhyun’s cheek. “What?”

“You are so cute” Chanyeol said. “You always ramble when you get shy.”

Baekhyun would have wanted to reply with something smart and sassy, but he only managed to blush, hiding his face in the crook of Chanyeol’s neck. He really liked that spot, where his skin was smooth and warm and where he could easily feel his pulse.

They kissed again, and again, and again, until Baekhyun’s lips started feeling slightly numb and his hard-on became very difficult to hide under the duvet carelessly thrown over his still naked body. Soon, though, he stopped worrying about those things, because Chanyeol’s hand sneaked its way under the covers and found his bare skin, making him shiver and sigh just like before. The magic repeated itself, plain and simple. The eggs’ plate was pushed aside, while Chanyeol kicked the annoying duvet away and grabbed Baekhyun’s waist, guiding the smaller man on all fours.

Later, Baekhyun was panting, staring at the ceiling and playing idly with Chanyeol’s hair. “Can I take off my gloves?” he asked.

Chanyeol went rigid in their embrace. “No.”

“Why?” Baekhyun quietly asked. He had been debating with himself a lot, wondering if it was the right moment to address that topic, and he had reached the conclusion that there probably would never be a perfect timing for that. So, he just asked, plain and simple.

“No” Chanyeol repeated, getting up. After that curt reply, he went into the bathroom and stayed there for a while, leaving Baekhyun alone in the cocoon of covers.

Of course, Baekhyun knew that he shouldn’t get irritated with Chanyeol. He personally chose to show his past to him, and it would be unfair to ask him to do the same just because it wouldn’t be even otherwise. But on the other hand, he couldn’t stop wondering what shameful things the other man was hiding from him, and why he seemed so horrified to let him know.

Things Joonmyeon told him, and medical considerations about Chanyeol’s supposed clinic picture were still haunting him. He felt bad, as a physician, not doing anything to help a sick patient, but he couldn’t bear the thought of feeding Chanyeol antidepressants that would leave him dazed and confused. Maybe he should just reject his case, handing everything over to Joonmyeon and his team, and just stay by Chanyeol’s side as a common person?

Not as a common person, he corrected himself. As a lover. That was a crucial difference.

As a lover, he wanted to know what was breaking Chanyeol’s heart. He wanted to heal his heart, more than his mind, and that was something a doctor couldn’t ever do, no matter how good he could be.

Chanyeol getting out of the toilet interrupted his musings. The tall man smiled timidly to him, retrieving the empty plate from the floor, and Baekhyun felt something break inside of himself at that sight.

_Who hurt you?_

“I’ll do the dishes” he whispered, getting up and taking the plate from Chanyeol’s hands. He padded towards the sink, realizing just when he wore rubber gloves over his fabric ones that he was still stark naked and that he was shivering.

Quietly, without making any fuss, Chanyeol came at his back and hugged him from behind, warming him while he cleaned the kitchenware. Baekhyun did his task trying his best to hide the tears that desperately wanted to spill from his eyes.

 _Who is the fucking jerk that hurt a beautiful human being like you? I want to know_.

“I love you” he said instead.

Chanyeol didn’t reply, but held him tighter and pulled him towards the bed again, where they laid together, kissing, stroking each other’s body, dozing off occasionally.

When Chanyeol fell asleep, Baekhyun took off his gloves and hugged him tight.

\---oOo---

_Chanyeol was sulking in the rear of the car._

_“Honey, don’t be like that” his mother gently reproached him from the passenger seat. “You know that your father can’t help attending this event.”_

_“Sure I know. What I really don’t understand is the reason why I still need to come along with you just like when I was a kid. I’m twenty-two years-old, for fuck’s sake. This is just ridiculous. ”_

_His mother pursed her lips tightly together. “I’m sorry, honey, but it’s such an important occasion, and you know that diplomats pay an awful lot of attention to details. Coming with the whole family can help giving out a good image, and...”_

_“Image” Chanyeol growled, “that’s all dad cares about.” He shot a resentful glance to the car that was travelling just before theirs, where his father and a few other diplomats were sitting. They were supposed to attend a very important meeting with some Northern ambassadors to negotiate the release of a few prisoners, and he was supposed to do nothing but sit somewhere, bored out of his mind, while all those important people decided upon life and death of innocents._

_“That’s not true.”_

_“It is true, and you know it well. Don’t talk to me now, I won’t hear you.” He plugged his phone’s earphones and immersed himself in music, ignoring his mother’s ramblings in the background. He hated it. He hated all that. He hated living in those dry, boring embassy lodgings just because his father took care of relationship with the North and keeping his family close could bring a positive outcome in his consultations. He found it stupid, plain and simple. North Koreans were barbarians who killed people. What good would make showing to official meetings bringing along a sulking son and a forcedly smiling wife? He personally didn’t think that would have changed anything about the meetings’ results._

_That was just a pointless war, even if it was fought on diplomacy instead of a real battlefield._

_He was lost into his music when he heard a distant noise. He looked out of the window, annoyed, but what he saw made his blood freeze in his veins._

_The car where his father and the other diplomats were riding disappeared. In its place, a huge ball of fire and a column of smoke were spiralling towards the sky. Their driver braked abruptly, staring incredulous at the horribly fascinating show._

It’s a dream _, Chanyeol thought, trying to calm the frantic beating of his heart._ I’m going to wake up soon. It’s not happening for real.

_His mother let out a small, choked sound, and he knew it was useless to deceive himself. His father was dead, blown up in what totally looked like a terroristic attack._

Dad _, he thought, guilt, pain, sadness hitting him all at once._

_“Madam, we need to get going” the driver was urging them. “Chanyeol, we need to get out of here...”_

_He couldn’t even finish his sentence, because he was shot in the head. Chanyeol’s mother screamed, when two men assaulted their car, aiming their guns towards them._

_“Mom!” Chanyeol shouted, but his body was frozen, frozen while one of the North Korean terrorists grabbed the woman by the hair and pointed the gun at her temple. Blood sputtered everywhere, and he cried out again when it landed on him._

_“Take him” someone commanded, in that hateful dialect that Chanyeol knew so well._

_“No, no” he pleaded, but the two slammed the door open and pulled him out of the car. Chanyeol was slapped hard and forced onto his knees, while someone taped his wrists together and covered his head with a dark cloth. He was crying so hard, though, that he barely realized about the short travel that ensued that treatment. When the cloth was taken away from his face, he was inside of a spartan building, probably some military facility. In front of him there was a manhole._

_“What... what are you going to...”_

_Without letting him protest further, the two men grabbed him and shoved him into the hole._

_Chanyeol screamed, badly falling on the bottom of the pit, scratching himself against the raw walls. He couldn’t see anything, and he panicked when he felt wetness under his bare feet, afraid that water could have soon filled up the hole and that he would end up drowning._

_“Oi, scum from the South. How do you like your new house? Is it nice?”_

_“You’re going to stay there for a while, so make yourself comfortable.”_

_Chanyeol gasped in horror. The pit was high enough to prevent him from climbing his way towards the opening, and so narrow that his shoulders could barely accommodate inside. He couldn’t even sit on the bottom, just stand._

_“Let me go” he whined, hating the sound of his voice. The pit smelt awful, like rotten food and filth. He could smell blood also, and he believed that he was injured, but the darkness prevented him from checking the damage. He could feel his legs already getting numb because of the uncomfortable position he was forced to hold, practically on his tiptoes. “Please, let me go.”_

_“Did you hear him? He said please.”_

_“How sweet of him.”_

_“Maybe he’s thirsty. Let’s give him a drink.”_

_“Good idea!”_

_Chanyeol heard the zippers being pulled and instantly knew what was coming, but he had no way to protect himself from the hot stream of urine that hit him from above. He cried out again, horrified. Some of the filthy liquid fell on his hair, went into his eyes and mouth. He spat out, nauseated. “Stop” he whined, “stop.”_

_“Are you hungry too, perhaps?”_

_They kept on tormenting him for hours, breaking him little by little until the old Chanyeol died, and another version of him, one that fed on hatred and revenge, was born._

_Chanyeol was allowed out of the pit after two weeks of reiterated tortures. He couldn’t stand on his legs, and they used ropes to get him outside like a dead weight. His body was a constellation of scratches and bruises scattered around, some inflicted by his tormenters, who constantly threw garbage or rocks at him, some others auto-inflicted with his teeth or nails, a pathetic attempt to conserve some sanity. Daylight hurt his eyes, and Chanyeol couldn’t even face the Northern official that was standing above him, examining what was left of him._

_“He endured the two weeks of training, sir” one of the two soldiers said, sounding strangely proud. “He has potential.”_

_Training? What training?_

_After that, Chanyeol was taken to the doctors. They took care of his injuries, and they even gave him medications for his vocal chords, which were damaged after such a long time when he kept screaming and pleading for mercy. They carefully checked his joints, his muscle tone, and he was fed nutritious food. Chanyeol tried refusing it, but they literally shoved it down his throat. Willing or not, he was put back in health._

_“We have two rules here: never ask why and just obey orders. Got it?” The man speaking to him was a graduate of some sort, maybe some high rank officer judging from the escutcheons on his uniform, but he never saw that particular combination. He was sure that the group that murdered his parents and held him captive was a terroristic organisation, maybe even a still unknown one, but the rules were clear: he couldn’t ask._

_If he wanted to survive, he just had to obey._

_“Yes, sir” he whispered._

_“Good.”_

_Since then, he was entitled with various tasks. He had to bring food to a prisoner held captive in a small room just a little bigger than the pit where he had been “trained”. She was a North Korean woman, and Chanyeol believed that those people considered her guilty of treason or spying. Every day, the woman was questioned and beaten up when she refused to answer. Nothing that they ever asked made sense to Chanyeol: something about a weapon deposit hidden somewhere, but he was too busy keeping his expression neutral to care. If he showed compassion for the woman, even just by turning his head to the side while she was beaten to a pulp on the floor, he would receive punishment as well. And no, he didn’t want to end up into the pit again._

_Everything but that._

_Then, one day, they put the metal club in his hand and they gave him the order. “Your turn. Beat her.”_

_He obeyed. What else could he do?_

I’m sorry _, he kept repeating in his mind, while he carried on with his task,_ I’m so sorry, but I can’t do otherwise. I hope you’ll understand.

_She couldn’t hear him, of course, because he didn’t dare talking aloud. He was a coward like that._

_One day, finally, she died. Chanyeol went into her prison to start the usual beatings, but found her lifeless, on the floor._

_His first reaction, though, was panic. What if they would get angry at him? He didn’t want to get into the hole again... he didn’t want to._

_Surprisingly, though, they decided to let him go. “We don’t need you anymore.”_

_A wild sense of success invaded him. Were they so stupid? Animals, that was what they all were. They just had to wait for him to go to the police, to speak to Southern authorities about the murder of his family..._

_Then, he received a cold shower._

_“Nobody would ever believe you, if you were to tell this story.”_

_Just wait, Chanyeol thought, just wait. None of them looked worried, though, and their calm sent chills through his spine. He found it even more scary than the hellish times he spent in the North._

_Sadly, though, they were right. They covered his face again and left him somewhere near the border. He walked towards the suburbs, reaching the first police station he found, but the officers were sceptical and dealt with him coldly._

_“Listen, son, this is a little hard to believe. We received a report about your father and mother being missing, deserting an important governative task...”_

_“What? This is not true. My parents aren’t deserters. They were attacked...”_

_He tried, tried hard. He told his story countless times, to some regular officers first, to detectives later. And, to his utter desperation, they debunked his words little by little. There were no terroristic groups in that area. That was just impossible. They understood his will to hide his parents’ shameful act, but there was no way a story like that could be believable._

_And then, Chanyeol’s solitary existence began. He was given a small amount of money from the government, something like a compensation for his father’s supposed desertion. He started living in a small flat, all by himself, but soon he found out that sleeping was impossible, because memories kept assaulting him and making him scream in the middle of the night. Panic attacks were always behind the corner. It was enough to hear a northern-sounding voice, or to see something that even remotely reminded him of those times, to trigger horrible anxiety attacks that left him covered in sweat and breathless._

_The weirdest thing, though, was what happened to his hands. If he touched someone, he could see their past._

_At first he thought it was just a hallucinating phenomenon, something that could be explained with science. But then he found out it wasn’t like that. What could he do? He didn’t trust doctors, he had no faith left in humanity. He felt like his torturers succeeded in turning him into a wild beast that couldn’t be human anymore._

_Was he so damaged? Could be really be fixed, somehow?_

_Then, while turning the pages of a newspaper in a cafe, he read for the first time about Byun Baekhyun, and a weird feeling, something he thought he would never experience again in life, surged through his chest._

_Hope._

\--oOo--

Baekhyun slowly detached himself from Chanyeol. His hands were shaking hard, and he quickly folded his arms on his chest to prevent them from doing so.

He would have never imagined anything like that.

Awakened by the movement, Chanyeol stirred beside him. “Hmm. What time is it?” he slurred, smiling dreamily at him.

 _Baby_ , Baekhyun thought, terrified. _Baby, did you keep all this horror inside, for all this time?_

Sensing that something was different, Chanyeol propped on an elbow and focused on him. “What’s wrong?” he asked, looking around, but when his eyes fell on Baekhyun’s white gloves, neatly folded beside the pillow, he jumped on his feet as if struck by lightning.

“What have you done?” he bellowed.

“Chanyeol... please, calm down. I just wanted to...”

“Are you satisfied, now?”

Baekhyun yelped. Chanyeol had pushed him out of anger, and he had fell on the floor. Now he could see the tortured man that thrived to survive through his pain.

“Yeol, I’m sorry, but try to understand my point of view. I wanted to help you, and I didn’t know how... I had to do it. For your sake.”

“Your point of view?” Chanyeol repeated, so angry that his spit flied everywhere. “ Don’t try to fuck with me. You just wanted to check if I was lying. So, are you satisfied, now? This is what I am. Are you scared? Well, you should be. I kill people. I am a monster. They kept me in a hole, feeding me just piss and shit until I was reduced at the state of a wild animal. Are you still surprised I have mental issues?”

He was trembling, caught in a rage fit. Slowly, Baekhyun stood and took a step forward, trying to calm him. “Baby, I just...” He didn’t see the blow coming.

With an animalistic cry, Chanyeol hit him hard on his chest. Baekhyun lost balance and tripped, falling violently against the small table. He felt a sharp pain at his right elbow, and when he saw the weird angle he instantly knew it was dislocated.

Meanwhile, Chanyeol had been screaming for the whole time.

“Sweetheart” Baekhyun whispered, even if the man couldn’t hear him, “sweetheart.” Hearing him cry like that made him forget about everything, the injured arm, the pain he felt all over his body. Those cries carried such desperation that he just wanted to find a way to comfort him.

Chanyeol looked at him, who was still sprawled on the floor, panting hard, his eyes wide and unfocused. Baekhyun was afraid he was going to pounce on him and kill him with his bare hands, but Chanyeol abruptly turned and started hitting all that was around. He crashed the plates, the kitchenware, the decorations sitting around the room. He was in a crazed, delirious state, completely out of his mind.

In the back of his head, Baekhyun heard Joonmyeon’s voice. _That man is dangerous_.

Slowly, cradling his injured arm against his chest, he stood on his shaky legs and started walking towards him.

“Don’t come!” Chanyeol shouted, throwing a heavy-bottomed pot towards him as if it weighed nothing. Baekhyun managed to dodge it just partially, hissing when it hit his hip.

“Nope, baby.”

“I told DON’T!”

“And I told” Baekhyun calmly – as calmly as the situation allowed him to – said, “that I won’t do that.”

Chanyeol’s face contorted in a grimace, and he started sobbing hard. “Don’t come, don’t come, don’t come, leave me alone. Go away.”

He pushed Baekhyun again, when he came near, and again Baekhyun fell and got up, resuming walking towards him.

“Go away!”

He finally managed to grab Chanyeol, holding tightly onto his waist. The bigger man struggled to push him away, but Baekhyun was tenacious and didn’t lessen his hold. His arm hurt to the point that he was afraid he could faint, but he endured the hits until Chanyeol gave up, falling on his knees, panting hard, his pupils blown and a hallucinated expression on his face.

All of a sudden, all that tremendous energy disappeared, and Chanyeol was left shaking in Baekhyun’s hug.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart” Baekhyun murmured, stroking his head, cradling that broken man against himself. “I’ve got you. You can cry, love... cry to your heart’s content. Lean on me, don’t worry about anything.”

Chanyeol looked at him, incredulous, as if he couldn’t believe that Baekhyun could still be willing to comfort him after that.

“I... I...”

“I swear it, baby” Baekhyun whispered, kissing his temple softly. “We’ll fix everything. Don’t worry about anything. Just let it out, for now. Everything is going to be okay.”

“I’m unfixable” Chanyeol brokenly whispered, but he let him stroke his wet hair and kiss his crown.

“Bullshit, Yeol. Don’t worry, I’ll find a way. I love you too much to let you go.”

After those words, Chanyeol was crying hysterically. He drenched Baekhyun in tears until he was left in a dazed, only half-conscious state.

Baekhyun kept holding him for all the time, murmuring sweet words in his ear. His injured arm was throbbing and his body felt sore in various places, but he would never let go of him, not for all the gold in the world.

Finally, Chanyeol let out a pained sigh and went limp against him.


	8. Eight

 

When he made sure that Chanyeol had calmed down, Baekhyun helped him lay on the floor. He gently guided his head with his hand, careful not to hurt him, marvelling because if felt heavy and he was sweating a lot.

 _A psychotic episode_. _This  might mean..._

No, no. He had to stop thinking of him in that way. What did he need more? He just got all the explanations he needed. Chanyeol was a victim of violence and was suffering of a very bad PTSD.

He fixed the matted strands of hair sticking to Chanyeol’s forehead one by one.

_There it is, the trauma that caused all this. He was tortured and left alone. This would break much stronger men than him, wouldn’t it? He’s not mentally ill. He just needs therapy and time to heal._

He stood, staggering a little. His bruised hip hurt every time he moved, but his arm looked even worse. With a deep breath, he grabbed his wrist, perfectly knowing what had to be done and preferring not to think too much before acting.

 _Crack_. When he pulled, the bones returned into their legit position and the pain, for a split second, was so horrendous that he could do nothing but breathe loudly through his nostrils. A dark curtain fell before his eyes, but thankfully enough he remembered to keep breathing, and he felt better soon. Now the injured arm just throbbed a little, but Baekhyun knew that it would be much worse later, when the hematoma would spread across the elbow’s articulation.

Nevertheless, he didn’t sit and rest, even if he felt exhausted. He started cleaning around, gathering all the stuff that Chanyeol threw at him during his fit and putting it back in place. He worked silently, collecting everything that was cracked or fell into pieces and throwing it into the trash, hoping that it would help also clearing up his mental.

He couldn’t help but glancing occasionally towards the asleep man on the floor while working. He looked young and vulnerable, like that, and it made Baekhyun’s heart ache. Soon, he found himself kneeling next to him on the floor, stroking his back. He was tired too, and after a while he leant his chin on his bent arm and closed his eyes.

He woke a bit later, when he felt Chanyeol moving. The man blinked through his bloodshot eyes, looking at him. “Why are you still here?” he muttered, sounding puzzled.

 _He expected me to run away_.

“I was worried for you” Baekhyun replied. “How are you feeling?”

Pulling into a sitting position, Chanyeol stared at him in horror. “Your arm... was it because of me?”

“Don’t worry about that. How are you feeling?”

Chanyeol shook his head slowly, blinked twice and started quivering. “I can’t believe I hurt you. God, I feel terrible.”

Baekhyun squeezed his shoulder in a comforting way, trying to ease his stress away. “I told you it’s not serious. And since I did something despicable first, well, I think now we’re even.”

Chanyeol looked at him with bulging eyes, then shook his head slowly. “Am I still dreaming?”

“No” Baekhyun softly confirmed. And since Chanyeol looked somewhat young, and lost, he gently let his uninjured arm slide around his waist and hugged him. “No, baby. You are awake.”

He felt Chanyeol become rigid against him, and he braced himself, fearing another attack, but then the man let out a sigh and relaxed, leaning his head on Baekhyun’s shoulder. “I am so ashamed” he whispered. “I really wished you would never see it.”

“Why?” Baekhyun cautiously pressed on. “You saw the worst of me, and you know I would never judge you.”

Chanyeol averted his gaze, refusing to look at him in the eye.

“Park Chanyeol” Baekhyun said, cupping Chanyeol’s face between his hands. “You didn’t harm anyone willingly, alright? You were forced. And you just followed orders in order to save yourself. You were in a frail psychological state, and they took advantage of you.”

Chanyeol started crying, and this time Baekhyun thought his heart was going to break for real. His lover didn’t sob or cry out, he just sat there with his eyes leaking and empty. “Chanyeol” he whispered, “I love you so much.”

He kissed his right cheek, then his left one, tasting the salt on his lips. “You will be alright” he murmured, “I’m by your side, now. I’ll take care of you.”

Chanyeol nodded, trying to wipe his tears. “I’m such a mess” he whispered, attempting a small smile, but that was enough to make Baekhyun’s heart leap of joy.

He hugged him tighter, holding him for long. “It’s going to be fine, baby. I swear. We’ll find a way. Does your head hurt?” he asked, noticing the way Chanyeol winced.

“A bit.”

“Go under the covers, I’ll prepare something light to eat. You didn’t touch anything since last night.”

Chanyeol obeyed like a kid, while Baekhyun went to the kitchen, determined to make the damn best meal of his life. His dreams brutally crashed though when he burnt the eggs he intended to fry and realized that none of that mess could be considered even remotely edible.

He was digging for his phone to look for some delivery food, when he saw Chanyeol standing by the kitchen counter, all wrapped up in a blanket roman-style, quietly munching on something. “Don’t eat that! I’m going to order some chicken...”

“Why not? It’s fine.”

“It’s all burnt... it won’t be good for you...”

“Baby?” Chanyeol suddenly called up, making Baekhyun’s breath itch. “I said don’t worry. I’ve had much worse. And I like my eggs well-cooked.”

Baekhyun felt choking. He quietly put away his phone, then went to Chanyeol and leant onto his broad back. His heart was beating at a peaceful pace, and he was eating well. “Okay” he whispered. He slided his arms around Chanyeol’s waist, closing his eyes and enjoying the warmth.

_How could someone hurt him?_

“Wow” Chanyeol huffed, when they detached to put the dish in the sink, “they really pumped up the heating, didn’t they?”

“Hmm” Baekhyun replied, checking the floor with his bare hand, “I think so. Maybe they fixed it.”

He kept staring at his own hands, marvelling because he found it weird to go around without his cotton gloves on. He felt strangely naked, almost exposed, without them on, and in the back of his mind he had the persistent feeling that he should have put them on again, just in case. But since Chanyeol had been bare-handed after he took them off that last time, he felt that it wouldn’t be fair towards him.

“I was thinking... nevermind.”

“Uh?” he didn’t catch what Chanyeol was saying, because he was lost in his thoughts. “What did you say?”

“Forget it, it’s stupid.”

“Oh, come on. Tell me.”

“Okay.” Chanyeol followed Baekhyun’s gaze, and stared at the smaller man’s hands too before carefully enveloping them in his calloused palms. “I just felt this sudden desire to get out from this place. I mean, it’s nice and all, but there’s nothing to do all day and it feels a little bit overwhelming. But I know it’s impossible, so...” he shrugged, letting Baekhyun’s hands go, but he blinked in surprise when the doctor held them tight.

“Technically it’s forbidden to leave the guesthouse, yes. But since I am not your doctor in charge on paper yet, maybe we could ignore the rules. Just for a few hours. And I don’t think anyone will come to check on us.”

Chanyeol’s eyes lit up. “Are you saying it’s really possible?”

 _Shit_.

“Well” Baekhyun quietly corrected him, “it could be risky.”

“For you?” Chanyeol sobered up immediately. “No, I don’t want to put you in a difficult position. You still have your trouble to deal with, it will be bad for your reputation.”

Baekhyun shook his head. “Don’t worry about that.”

Chanyeol looked at him, concern, thrill and fatigue all mixing up in his dark eyes. Slowly, Baekhyun took his face between his hands and leaned over. He had wondered what would be like touching Chanyeol without his gloves after all that happened, and he quickly found out that now he only got quick flashes, very rapid passing images of Chanyeol’s past before indulging in the sweetness of the contact and forgetting about everything else. “Is it the same for you?” he asked, leaning his forehead against his. “Still seeing glimpses of that big flashback whenever you touch me?”

“Yes” Chanyeol whispered. “Although, very quick ones.”

“Really?”

“Right now, I just saw you laying in that alleyway.”

Baekhyun was amazed. He never felt so close to anybody else like in that moment. He swallowed his emotions away, holding onto Chanyeol and trying to clear out his mind.

“Let’s do it. Let’s get out.”

“But...”

“Just for a couple hours. Nobody will notice. We’ll be careful.”

“Okay” Chanyeol whispered back in the end. They both kept their voices low for the whole conversation, as if they were secretly conspiring. And they were, in a way.

Baekhyun went out first. He wore his coat and scarf, kissed Chanyeol on his lips quickly then ventured outside, in the cold. The sky was milky white again, promising other snow, and he stood, uneasy and shivering, in a corner of the parking lot where he hoped the security cameras wouldn’t be able to tape anything of that improvised runaway. A mean, little part of him kept suggesting the possibility that something in his little plan could go wrong, adding to his discomfort.

_What if he runs away? What if I get caught? Will I lose my job? What if he’ll have another crisis in the streets? What if..._

And then Chanyeol materialized behind him, grabbing his small and icy hand, keeping him grounded and putting some order in his frantic thoughts. “Let’s do it quickly” he said. He was clearly uncomfortable with the thought of Baekhyun getting in trouble because of him, and the smaller man was feeling strangely grateful because of that.

That was a normal reaction. Something normal people would do, worrying for their loved one’s sake.

Hand in hand, they started walking. They avoided the shops nearby, since Baekhyun feared he could meet someone from the clinic, and ventured a couple blocks away. They literally did nothing but walk at a brisk pace in the cold, keeping their noses buried in their scarves; but Baekhyun could feel Chanyeol’s thumb caress his index finger while their hands were still linked.

As they got back, they were already kissing on the door mat, stumbling to get rid of their shoes before stepping inside. Layers of clothes were carelessly thrown aside, and Baekhyun shivered when Chanyeol’s cold hands traced his bare spine. “Hold me” Chanyeol whispered in his mouth, and then he collected Baekhyun from the floor, lifting him effortlessly and laying him with care over the futon. Their bodies took over their minds, and everything dissolved in a dense mist of pleasure and sweetness. Baekhyun panted while Chanyeol’s mouth descended along his abdomen, drawing close to his manhood, and he threw his head back when the other blew him, sending him quickly over the edge. Then, he pushed onto Chanyeol’s chest to flip their positions and rode him, dancing over him, mesmerized by the beauty of his dazed face, the blooming cheeks, the half-lidded, gorgeous eyes, the elegant lips. “I love you” he mouthed, because his voice suddenly failed him when he came for the second time, shuddering hard.

They were both regaining their breath when Baekhyun’s phone started vibrating. “Do you really need to answer?” Chanyeol whined, when the other untangled with difficulty from his vine-like embrace and fished around in his bag.

“It might be something important” Baekhyun replied, feeling a weird pang of guilt in his chest when he saw the caller ID.

Kim Joonmyeon. Apparently, he tried calling him other eleven times before, but Baekhyun was too busy to notice.

“Hello?” he cautiously replied, and the man on the other side of the line instantly started yelling.

“Where the fuck are you? I was dead worried!”

“Erm...” Baekhyun tried gaining some time.

 _Well, you see, I left my phone somewhere and the battery died. I suddenly needed to visit a cousin at Jeju island and hopped on a plane without telling you. My granny died, it was so unexpected. I needed some time off and switched off the phone_...

Joonmyeon, though, couldn’t stop ranting. “Listen, it’s okay, don’t waste time making up excuses. I need to talk to you immediately, and don’t dare saying you are busy or I will really come there and snatch your ass.”

Baekhyun blinked. _Why is he like this?_ The Joonmyeon he knew was never vulgar. His speech was always collected and refined, and he rarely let his feelings show.

“I’m still with patient Park, you know... I think he’s improving, and...”

“Yes, I know you are there” the other impatiently interrupted him. “I’m outside, you better get out quick. We need to talk.”

A cold hand grabbed Baekhyun’s stomach. He turned to check if Chanyeol was listening to the conversation, but thankfully enough the sex and the strong emotions of before got him, because he was snoring softly, all sprawled over the messy bed with his gorgeous body on display.

He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Joonmyeon, don’t be like this. I know I violated the clinic’s rules, keeping such a long time next to a patient, but I did it for his sake, I swear. I think he was diagnosed wrongly. He is not schizophrenic, he suffers from PTSD... he got kidnapped from a terroristic organisation from the North and witnessed the murder of his family...”

“Okay, Baekhyun” Joonmyeon said with a sigh, “I’m coming in to get you. I’ve got a master key.”

“No, please” Baekhyun stopped him, “I’m coming outside. Wait for me and don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

“Okay. But please, be quick.”

Perplexed and also slightly scared, Baekhyun scribbled a quick note for Chanyeol on a sticky note and left it on the kitchen table, then he got dressed and wore his coat and scarf before going out.

Joonmyeon was waiting for him, and his eyes widened when he saw the way his injured arm hung limply from his shoulder. “What happened? Did he hurt you?”

“It’s nothing” Baekhyun murmured, squirming away from his friend’s inquiring hands. He was acting really weirdly. “We got into a little argument... nothing serious.”

“Fuck, Baekhyun, I’m so sorry. I should have never let you near that man. It’s all my fault!”

“Joonmyeon, it’s okay, nothing happened...”

“Let’s get inside. I need to talk to you.”

“Why... why such a hurry? Did something bad happen?”

_What’s happening? What got into him?_

Baekhyun let the psychiatrist drag him inside of the main building, all the way down the long white corridors until they reached his office. Once there, Joonmyeon stuck out his head and barked at his secretary that they should not be disturbed.

 _Fuck, he’s behaving so strangely_.

Baekhyun accepted to sit, and then he was handed a bundle of papers. “I’ve got them from a colleague. It’s about patient Park. You... I think you need to read them.”

Baekhyun did as he was told, but he soon raised his eyes to meet Joonmyeon’s worried look. “What’s all this?”

“This is a statement released by patient Park’s mother. She reveals all the truth about her son’s condition. He never went to the North, he was born and raised in his hometown. He tried attending college, but then he started suffering of depression and lost contact with reality. He got obsessive, he started seeing things that never happened, he kept rambling about having been kidnapped and being left alone. His parents didn’t know how to help him. He was given pills to help with his depression, but he never took them. Afterwards, he started getting hallucinations and getting really violent. His mother was beaten from him several times, until she decided to sent him here to get cured. I think his condition worsened from then.”

Baekhyun felt cold all over, and then suddenly hot. “Joonmyeon, this is impossible... Chanyeol’s mother is dead in the North during a terroristic attack...”

The physician sighed again. “My friend, I’m so sorry, but you need to be strong.”

“There... there must be some misunderstanding... maybe you talked to the wrong woman?”

“I’ve talked to her personally. She came here and showed me her ID. There’s no mistake. And Park’s father is alive as well. They are both terribly worried for their son.”

Baekhyun was confused. “So he lied? No, wait... I’ve touched him with my bare hands, I’ve seen his past myself, he couldn’t have lied.”

And then he suddenly remembered. His gloves were still in the apartment, he forgot to wear them. He started panicking. “Sorry, I forgot something really important, I need to get back...”

Joonmyeon silently handed him a pair of latex medical gloves over the desk. “You can wear these, for the moment.”

“Thanks” Baekhyun whispered, and he realized he had been hyperventilating. He convulsively wore the gloves, and when he was done he finally started feeling better.

“Okay. Now, about these papers, there’s no way Chanyeol might have lied, so...”

“Baekhyun, nobody is saying that he lied. He is in a very critical condition, and he believes every word he told you.”

Baekhyun couldn’t believe his friend could be so obtuse. He was starting to get angry at him. “He didn’t even tell me, you know, I just touched him and got all the truth by myself. No statement whatsoever could ever convince me otherwise.”

“I know” Joonmyeon looked miserable, and  Baekhyun’s anger somehow deflated at that sight.

_Is he blaming himself? For what?_

“Baekhyun...”

“Joonmyeon, you need to explain me better, because I’m not understanding you.”

The psychiatrist closed his eyes, looking overwhelmed. “Baekhyun, I’m immensely sorry, but I think patient Park is schizophrenic. Not only he made up a complicated scenery of improbable kidnapping and tortures in his mind, but he also dragged you in his hysteria.”

“I... don’t understand...” Baekhyun stuttered.

_Hysteria? He never showed signs of hysteria? Or... did he?_

He suddenly had trouble remembering. He felt confused. What exactly did Chanyeol _told_ him? And what did he see instead?

“Baekhyun” Joonmyeon murmured, taking his gloveted hands gently, “I am so sorry I neglected you. I should have taken more care of you, considering all that happened previously. I’m at a loss, and I apologize from the bottom of my heart.”

 _I don’t understand, what’s going on? Why does he look worried for me? Weren’t we talking about Chanyeol? I don’t understand_...

“Baekhyun, I think I underestimated the aftermath of the rape you endured in the past.”

Those words hit Baekhyun hard, right in his guts. Ki Joon’s laughter rang in his ears, and he shivered violently.

“I... I can’t see the connection...”

“You know, all this ability of yours to see people’s past just by touching? It’s nothing but hallucinating. You believe to see things, but instead your mind produces hallucinations that are only partially true.”

“But  Chanyeol...” Baekhyun suddenly stopped halfway. Why did he suddenly remember  Chanyeol telling him about the North, describing the various tortures he endured while laying on the bed next to him? When did it happen? Didn’t he just touch him during his sleep, eliciting his rage? Then... why  did Chanyeol hurt him, if he told him everything willingly?

_This is such bullshit, Baekhyun, focus! You are a doctor... you know the symptoms. Can this be considered a mental illness?_

He started trembling, and he grabbed Joonmyeon’s hand back. “What’s happening, Myeon?” he breathed. “What’s happening? Please, tell me. Don’t scare me like this.”

His friend stared at him, compassion and sympathy in his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Baekhyun... but I think patient Park is schizophrenic. And you weren’t able to diagnose him properly not because you are a poor or unprofessional doctor but because...” he cleared his throat, “because I think you are sick too. You got his same illness.”

 _Schizophrenia? Me? What bullshit_...

But then, realisation hit him. Hard, and all of a sudden, and his tremor changed into a full-fledged seizure.

“Aside from these hallucinations, Baekhyun... do you ever hear voices, or have difficulty remembering things, feeling grounded with reality, indulge in obsessive behaviours or thoughts...”

“I... I...”

_Voices? VOICES LIKE THIS ONE, PERHAPS?_

Baekhyun covered his ears with his hands and screamed.

\---oOo---

Chanyeol woke up in the silent, dark apartment. Baekhyun wasn’t anywhere in sight.

“Baekhyun?” he called out, standing up groggily. He saw the sticky note on the table and he took it.

_I’ll be right back. I love you._

Chanyeol wasn’t feeling good. He felt strangely confused, and he had some difficulties remembering what happened before he went to sleep. He remembered having some gorgeous sex with Baekhyun, of course... but everything else was just a blur. Why did he keep seeing images flashing behind his eyelids? Like... scenes of torture, or beatings? Something he saw in a movie, perhaps? Or did he hurt someone himself? He couldn’t remember well. Sometimes it happened, that he couldn’t remember things well. He guessed it was normal. Now, though, he felt as if he was watching at himself from the outside, as if he merely was a bystander and wasn’t involved in anything.

Chanyeol was no psychiatrist, otherwise he would know he was dissociating.

“Baekhyun” he whispered, feeling young, vulnerable and lost. “Baekhyun, I need you...”


	9. Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for potential triggering writing, self-harm and general darkness. Things will get better, I promise.

 

Joonmyeon didn’t leave Baekhyun alone. He quickly raised from his chair and hugged him tightly. He wasn’t a big man, but somehow in his arms Baekhyun felt a little safer, and his panic attack seemed to recede a little.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Baekhyun closed his eyes, letting tears fall freely on his face.

_It’s not okay_ .

“Myeon” he whispered, “you are right. I keep hearing a voice talking to me, lately...”

“It’s okay, Hyun. We’ll fix everything, you don’t have to worry.”

_Fix you?_ The voice cackled in Baekhyun’s mind.  _As if. A certain someone would feel extremely proud of himself, if he saw you right now_ .

The mere reference to his rapist made Baekhyun’s breath ran wild again. Ki Joon... that was all his fault, wasn’t it? The man that ruined him. That broke him. He believed everything was over... but the trauma kept digging a hole, slowly, slowly inside of him, while he convinced himself that everything was over. And that hole kept growing and growing, trying to devour what was left of him.

Post-traumatic syndrome disease. Simple as drinking a glass of water. He used to be fast and efficient in diagnosing those who suffered of that, in the past... what happened, lately? What broke that perfect circle? After the Sehun affair, everything seemed to crumble down. Or was it bound to happen anyway? It was all so confusing.

“Chanyeol” he whispered, but he quickly found out that he couldn’t think properly, because his mind felt drowsy, “we need to get to Chanyeol... he needs...”

“I’ve got it. I’ve sent people.”

Baekhyun stared at him in horror. “Wha—did you sent nurses for a coerced hospitalization? Myeon, no, he’ll make a mess...”

“It’s okay, Hyun. They’re trained for these kind of things. It’s their job.”

“But Chanyeol...” _Chanyeol will hurt_ , he wanted to add, instead he started sobbing uncontrollably. _Chanyeol will feel betrayed and lonely and angry and miserable_...

Gently, the professor reached for his phone, which was buzzing in his pocket. He blurted out a few words and then he put it away. “Good. They brought him inside without  a problem . He didn’t resist. He’s sedated now, and he’s resting well.”

Baekhyun let those words sink for a moment.

 _At least_ _now_ _he’s safe,_ he told to himself, trying to calm down, but he couldn’t stop crying. He kept convulsing, until he unexplainably started hitting Joonmyeon’s arm out of frustration. He was angry towards himself, for hot having been able to protect his lover, towards Ki Joon, towards his family which slowly abandoned him, towards everyone. 

A horrifying, enormous amount of rage started rising from his chest, making him shake hard.

He wanted to do something... he  _needed_ to do something... but what? He felt tired, confused and had trouble focussing. He tried glancing towards the window, remembering vaguely that it was important to ground yourself from time to time, but when he looked outside he noticed that the sky was dark.  How ? When did it happen? He left the guesthouse while it was still morning, didn’t he? He wasn’t sure, he wasn’t sure of anything, anymore, and he felt so restless... he felt drowning. Just like that day, while those horrible men took turns with him, and he kept asking himself what did he do wrong to deserve all that,  finding no answers ...

_There’s something wrong in you, something rotten, there is no other explanation. Something unfixable. And you wanted to help another broken soul? Don’t make me laugh._ _You knew since the beginning that you would have ended up to screw everything._

Blinking, terrified, Baekhyun finally recognized whose voice had been speaking to him for all that time.

Ki Joon.  It was Ki Joon’s.

The voice laughed, and he let out a pained howl.

_Poor, pitiful little thing. You thought you deserved love? That you were worth being loved? As if. You are the worst kind, aren’t you? You are damaged goods. Every day you deceive people, acting all professional in your white coat. You are worse of every sick person you cured, you know? You have no right to be a psychiatrist. You deserve no recognition. You aren’t worth anything_ ...

Baekhyun was falling, falling into a black pit of desperation. The clean, modern office of professor Kim dissolved in a foggy confusion, and he couldn’t hear anything besides of Ki Joon’s voice degrading him, in the same tone he used on that dreaded day.

“Shut up” he whispered, and when he didn’t, he cried out. “Shut up! Leave me alone!”

But Ki Joon kept talking, and Baekhyun kept falling deeper... until, unexpected, a clear, much realer voice spoke out.

“Look at me, Hyun” Joonmyeon gently urged him. “It’s okay. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

Baekhyun opened his eyes, realizing that he had been clawing at his friend’s coat for that whole time, leaving red little stains on the white fabric. He didn’t remember  harming himself digging his nails into his palms, and the smell of blood suddenly terrified him.

Looking totally unbothered, Joonmyeon took his hands. “You know the procedure, doctor Byun” he calmly explained. “Come on, let’s go. Let’s put an end to all this.”

\---oOo---

And then it began.  Baekhyun signed a paper that stated his will to begin treatment, then he was allowed to return to his house to fill a bag with clothes and not really anything else. Electronics like cellphone and computers were forbidden, even books. “It’s just for the first few days” Joonmyeon gently explained to him, but Baekhyun didn’t care. 

After the peak of rage in his friend’s office, now he didn’t care about anything. He felt apathetic, empty. When he tried asking about Chanyeol, Joonmyeon suddenly turned silent. He knew he couldn’t tell him anything about another patient, but Baekhyun felt his chest ache every time he thought about his lover. But was it okay to call him his lover? Didn’t he technically got another mentally unstable person involved in his twisted mind’s spirals? He felt a strange mixture of guilt and longing, when thinking of Chanyeol. But most of the times, he just felt nothing but an overwhelming sadness washing over him, leaving him blank and confused.

Oh, he hated it. The spacious, luxurious room they gave him, with its pristine white furniture and framed paintings on the walls, that in spite of everything felt suffocating. The smiling nurse coming to check on him once an hour, whose teeth seemed fangs-like. The door’s peep-hole, that let people outside control him and that drove Baekhyun crazy. Only patients prone to suicide or self-harm were put in rooms with a peep-hole… was Joonmyeon really convinced that he could seriously try to kill himself? Like, seriously? He didn’t want to stay there. And he couldn’t stand the thought that he peeked into similar peep-holes countless times, mindlessly doing his routine checks on his patients. He never thought once of how those people could feel, and now he was at behind that closed door, and he wasn’t wearing his white coat anymore.

But that was nothing. Nothing could actually compare to Ki Joon’s voice, which was never shutting up, always talking and talking and talking into his head, shaming words flooding his mind like running from a broken tap.

_You worthless little slut. Of course you are nothing but a waste of space. What did you expect? A red carpet? Such a stupid bitch._

Sometimes it was enough shaking his head, or punching his forehead to make it fade a little. Some other times, though, ignoring it would be absolutely impossible. One day it got so bad that Baekhyun would have done anything, literally anything to make it stop. He didn’t remember getting up from the bed and going to the bathroom. He just found himself staring at his own reflection in the mirror, looking straight into his frightened, reddened eyes while holding his head as if it could have burst at any moment.

_Worthless slut._

He  started rummaging in the cabinet above the sink, furiously taking out everything he found. Five or six spare toothbrushes (what was the point of keeping so many? Ah, he had no time to worry about that), small tubes of lotion and soap, toothpaste, a sponge. He didn’t exactly know what he was looking for, but all he knew was that it wasn’t there. Or that all those things were useless to him. 

Panic started creeping on him, enveloping him in its spires. He frantically started clawing at the walls, why, oh why was the bathroom so small and cramped? Wasn’t it getting smaller and smaller? Or was it just another trick of his mind?

_Worthless, worthless little slut_ …  _Just look at you. You are disgusting._

He started crying hard, sobbing desperately and gasping for air. He wanted Joonmyeon, anyone, anyone to tell him that everything was alright. That everything was fixable. That the pills and whatever they were feeding him would start being effective soon and that the voice would stop rambling.

But nobody was there, and he was falling apart.

_Such a waste of space. Why don’t you just die?_

Baekhyun stared at himself in the mirror, shuddering.

_Really. Why didn’t you die, back then? Aren’t you even good at doing that?_

And then, finally, he noticed it. The cracked tile, just above the sink. Something even the perfectly organized and neat Kim Joonmyeon didn’t see before.

Relief flooded him when he tried pulling it and a rather big shard fell right into his hand. Its edges were sharp enough, and his breathing instantly eased when he felt the ceramic bite onto his skin.

Pain engulfed everything, even Ki Joon’s voice.

He woke up much later, in a different bed. “Where am I?” he mindlessly asked. Joonmyeon was sitting on a chair next to him, and another person was asleep in a bed nearby.

“At the hospital” the psychiatrist softly replied, feeling his forehead and checking his pulse. “How are you feeling?”

“At the hospital? Why not the clinic?”

Joonmyeon sighed, and gently tapped the bandage on his left wrist. “My stitching skills are a little rusty, and I needed help. I guess.”

He looked drained, and Baekhyun felt guilty, suddenly realizing what he did to himself. He didn’t _remember_ deciding to cut himself, and he just closed his eyes tightly, feeling panic creep onto him.

“Just a little bit more than a scratch, nothing serious” Joonmyeon softly added. “And I already called people to fix the bathroom’s tiles.”

Baekhyun averted his gaze. His mind felt clearer now, in spite of his lingering sleepiness, and Ki Joon’s voice was silent. He thoroughly enjoyed the silence, now. “I am sorry, Myeon. I don’t know what got into me. Please, try to understand.”

His friend didn’t say anything, he just smiled lightly and gently patted his hand. Baekhyun felt like crying. He had been about to give up his life, and the mere thought scared him senseless. Joonmyeon stayed by him for the whole time, wiping his tears with a warm cloth and comforting him without wasting stupid words. Words weren’t of any use, anyway.

“It will get better” he murmured after a long time, when Baekhyun closed his eyes again. His soothing voice was coming from afar, making him feel light, sleepy and weightless. “I swear. It will. Don’t give up, you are a fighter. Don’t give up.”

A fighter? Baekhyun couldn’t believe him, but he drifted back into sleep again.

He had a nice dream, for a change. He was laying on a green lawn, dozing off comfortably under the warm sunshine, and Chanyeol was next to him, holding him close. His smile was sweet, his eyes gentle, and every time Baekhyun opened his eyes, he could see his lover casting that adoring glance over him. He felt safe, protected in his strong arms. He felt sleepy and content, even if he was still perfectly aware that Chanyeol was somewhere else, getting treatment for his mental condition, and that he was probably having a tough time too.

Nevertheless, that dream felt so sweet. So sweet, that when he woke up, he decided he wanted to try getting better. This time, for real.

Because he wanted to see Chanyeol again… and to be fully healthy to be able to stay by his side.

\---oOo---

Time passed slowly. Baekhyun’s appointed therapist was a kind-mannered man called Do Kyungsoo. He was chosen because he came to the clinic just recently and Baekhyun didn’t know him.

When he first saw him, though, Baekhyun felt utterly humiliated. The doctor was young, younger than him, and on the wall behind his desk there were so many framed degrees that he felt worthless and pitiful in comparison.

He spent their first meeting keeping his mouth tightly closed, unable to talk because of that dreadful feeling, and also because he felt he had nothing to say to that novice. Do Kyungsoo, though, was persistent. And very, very competent. He dealt with Baekhyun like he would have done with every other colleague, and never acted disrespectful of his senior position, but at the same time he always managed to talk to him about very heavy subjects, putting his mental health first without making him feel uncomfortable. He gently guided him to opening up and start analysing his feelings, and helped him greatly to disentangle all the confusion in his heart and mind.

Baekhyun wanted to get better, so he slowly learnt to be collaborative. Doctor Do explained him that since he couldn’t hear Ki Joon’s voice anymore in his head, things were already getting better, but that if he never came to terms with his past trauma, then he would always be prone to relapses. In a way, Baekhyun agreed with him. He actually appreciated doctor Do’s way of reasoning, because he came to the same conclusion. The key to the problem was, and had always been, Ki Joon and what he did to him. Since then, Baekhyun started suffering of hallucinations and of an alternation of depressive and manic episodes.

“So… are you actually advising me to see Ki Joon in person?”

Doctor Do nodded. “Yes. I think it would be therapeutic, for you.”

Baekhyun felt his palms cover in cold sweat. “But… but I can’t just go and ask to see him, can I?”

“Why not?” the other gently pressed on.

“Well, he’ll have a family… a job… I can’t just barge in and accuse him of having ruined my life...”

Various sceneries took form in his head. Hysterical wives throwing stuff at him, threatening to call police or to sue him for defamation. Scared, adorable kids staring at that little weird man saying horrible things about their beloved dad. Employees judging, people snickering, and on top of all that, Ki Joon casting that cold, mocking glance over him, the same glance that haunted his nightmares.

“No” he whispered, “I can’t do it. It’s getting better, I can feel it. My head feels much clearer lately. I am sure things will improve at a steady pace...”

Do stared at him sympathetically. “Doctor Byun, please listen to me. The more I think about it, the more I am convinced this is the only way out. If there were another method, I’ll tell you. But we need to put an end to this. Don’t you agree?”

Baekhyun blinked, and Ki Joon laughed into his head.

“No” he murmured. “I am sorry, you can’t ask me this. Anything, but this.”

After that, doctor Do didn’t insist. But that night, while he was alone in his bed, Baekhyun couldn’t help but think about the psychiatrist’s words.

Ki Joon had abused his mind and body, on that day, and he was still sporting the scars of his violence. He had already once tried starving himself to death, and if it wasn’t for the clinic’s personnel, he would have slitted his wrists and ended his life too.

Was he really going to give up everything for a scum like Ki Joon? Was he really going to risk another relapse, just because he was too scared to see him in person again?

What really helped him decide, on that night, was Chanyeol. Or better, the fictional version of Chanyeol he always met in his dreams.

“Just let him see that he didn’t manage to break you, baby” he gently advised him, still holding him in that sunny lawn, “go to him and show how beautifully you defeated him.”

“You make it sound so easy” Baekhyun told him, “but I feel so scared. What if he really did that? What if he really managed to break me, and I’ll never recover?”

After those words, Chanyeol hugged him tight, kissing his brow and cradling him into his arms. Baekhyun woke up in the middle of the night, feeling lonely and craving Chanyeol by his side so bad that he ended up crying, muffling his sobs into the pillow.

The day after, when he went to see doctor Do, he agreed with him that he was ready to confront Ki Joon for the last time. But that he wanted the doctor to go with him.

He couldn’t help but be surprised when the psychiatrist hugged him tightly after that revelation. He held him back, feeling grateful for having known him and his compassionate heart.

He wished he could get back to work and be like him soon.

\---oOo---

Ki Joon’s life wasn’t as nice as Baekhyun had pictured in his mind. After the expulsion from medical school, he had struggled to find a proper job, and even his family’s wealth couldn’t do much for shutting down the rumours about him. Nobody wanted a rapist in their firm. And surely nobody wanted him around their daughters, wives or employees.

Ki Joon worked for a few years as a warehouse worker, then met a girl he liked and married her. They had a son, but since Ki Joon sometimes drank and became violent, his wife asked for a divorce and he ended up lonely and broke.

When doctor Do asked him for a meeting at the clinic, Ki Joon laughed into the phone and ended the call. He sounded drunk, and doctor Do didn’t insist. But he tried calling the day after, and the other day after, and he never stopped until Ki Joon, out of exasperation, agreed to come and meet Baekhyun.

Baekhyun didn’t know what to expect, but when Ki Joon arrived, he couldn’t recognize him. The elegant and posh boy he was fond of during medical school became an obese, red-faced and unpleasant person. He smelled strongly of wine, and when he came in to shake doctor Do’s hand Baekhyun instinctively stepped back.

He was scared… he still was scared of him, even after seeing him so changed.

“So” Ki Joon asked, after an awkward silence and a declined offering of a cup of coffee, “are you a psychiatrist, right now? Cool. I liked psychiatry, back when I was still smart. I could have done that too.”

Baekhyun felt his throat tighten. Was there a mocking intention, in those words? Baekhyun majored in psychiatry because he wanted to understand the root of the violence and the cowardice he tasted on his own skin. He looked at doctor Do to seek for his encouragement, and when the psychiatrist smiled gently at him, he felt a little better.

“I won’t dance around the matter, Ki Joon. I am still suffering of the aftermaths of your wrongdoings.”

The man looked at him, and Baekhyun felt his insides twist. His gaze fell onto Ki Joon’s hands, and when he remembered the way those big, strong hands felt while groping at his skin, or slapping his face, he started breathing faster.

“Is that money you want?” Ki Joon blurted out, scrunching up his face. “I have none. My ex wife is sucking up all my finances.”

“More than that… I wish I could hear a proper apology. I am still waiting for that, you know.”

In spite of his talking, Baekhyun’s hands were actually shaking, and he was glad when he felt doctor Do’s come to grab his sweaty ones under the table.

“An apology” Ki Joon repeated, and now Baekhyun could recognize fully the sneering young chaebol’s face under those drunkard features. “Did you drag me all the way here just to hear a stinky apology?”

Baekhyun nodded, too overwhelmed to speak. He was openly shaking in fear, now, because Ki Joon looked so sure of himself, so arrogant, just like he was when he was infatuated of him.

Suddenly, though, his torturer’s confidence started faltering. “Listen, dude, I know you had issues after what I did, but I had too. My life was screwed. I think I already paid enough, didn’t I?”

Baekhyun blinked. Was he… looking for his compassion? After all the pain he caused to him?

Hell no. He wasn’t having any of that.

“Your apology” he repeated, with a stronger voice. “Just apologize to me once, and then you can go.”

Ki Joon squirmed onto his seat. “Oh, come on, don’t act all uptight. You led me on, didn’t you?”

“Careful, Mr Hwang” doctor Do coldly intruded, “slandering is a very serious thing to do, especially in your position. Watch your words.”

Baekhyun clasped onto his hand. “Just an apology” he insisted. “I want to hear it.”

“Fuck” Ki Joon cursed, slamming his fist onto the table, making Baekhyun jump, “I am sorry. I am sorry, okay? I am fucking sorry.”

After that, he started cursing and sputtering insults towards Baekhyun. Doctor Do, without losing his composure, stood and quietly called for security, which came and brought the man outside.

“How are you feeling?” the doctor asked, coming back to Baekhyun’s side.

Baekhyun tried analysing his feelings, and when he looked for rage or relief, he couldn’t find any. Witnessing the failure of his rapist’s life, the person he became, his lack of repent and his still abusive manners made him feel strangely disconnected. It was like the elegant boy he fell for years ago never really existed, and all the pain he suffered in some way affected Ki Joon too.

He felt nothing but pity and a vague nausea.

“Empty” he replied, “but also… somewhat lighter.”

Doctor Do hugged him tightly, telling him he was proud of him, and Baekhyun, for the first time, kind of agreed wit him. He felt proud of himself too, in that moment.

After that day, his mental condition improved dramatically, and he finally started making real progress.


End file.
